<![CDATA[X-treme Wrestling Federation - Wild Card Weekend Night 2 RP Board]]>

<![CDATA[X-treme Wrestling Federation - Wild Card Weekend Night 2 RP Board]]> https://xwf1999.com/ Fri, 15 May 2026 19:10:02 +0000 MyBB <![CDATA[Leaping Lizards.]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=25838 Sat, 10 Dec 2016 10:14:40 -0800 Broken Hart]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=25838
...and he would not fail.

"So, Thomas Nixon... reptilian? Really? A lizard skinned Illuminati... some kind of shadow government? Nothing more than fairy tale stories. We deal with the truth here, and the TRUTH is that come WildCard Weekend, you are going DOWN. There's no escaping the grasp of reality, and your reality is that I and two other men stand between you and the title you so desire. I don't like your odds, sir. On the other hand, you do possess a substance to your in-ring prescence that is lacking with the roster of today... good on you.

"You know, I've been in this game going on 17 years now. I've battled the highest flyers, the most brutal brawlers, the strongest of the strong and the most proficient technicians... I've seen them all, I've faced them all, I've conquered them all. But XWF has always been a thorn in my side, an obstacle I couldn't quite overcome... a group of people I couldn't quite hang with. I didn't fit in, and the way I lived and acted brought out the worst in people. I felt hatred from the top down, and I couldn't handle it. Years later, here I am, watching over the land below me.. the air fills me with an energy I can't get enough of. I'm prepared.

"Everything I've done up to this point has led to this. WildCard Weekend, one night to shed my old self and bring about an inner evolution. A change that could not only alter myself, but lay the groundwork for a revolution here in XWF. Thomas... I love your style, sir. You bring a refreshing prescence to XWF, in a sea of untalented, uncharasmatic noobs... You sir? You bring a style that many people here lack-- you have a firm grasp on your character, you speak with conviction, you know what it takes to make it in a place like Sin City, not to mention the Xtreme Wrestling Federation. You got chops kid, and I respect that.

"Now, you could rest on those words, or you could take them as a sign that you can get better. How? If you're already one of the best, why not shoot for the moon? Why not scrap and claw your way to the top of the mountain and cement your name as the best of the best. ...Why?

"Cuz I already hold onto that title, and I will never, EVER, let it go.

"I don't expect you to back down from me, I don't expect you to settle for anything less than that TV strap, but listen. I've got my eyes locked, and there will be no shaking me. I've returned and I've returned with a renewed focus, my priorities are in check, and I'm ready to show the XWF what makes me tick. It's not sex jokes, shameless jabs or toilet humor... it's pride. I put myself on the line every time I step into the ring, so I can come out the victor, proclaiming myself the better. Nixon, I WILL prove to be your superior, I WILL rise as you fall... and I will hold the XWF Television title in my hands as its champion.

"Believe it."

Broken Hart stands, peering over the edge of the monestary... he soars over the precipice, cowl flapping in the wind, as he falls to the sidewalk below... he couldn't possibly make it, could he? The camera gazes down... and we find no trace of BH...]]>
...and he would not fail.

"So, Thomas Nixon... reptilian? Really? A lizard skinned Illuminati... some kind of shadow government? Nothing more than fairy tale stories. We deal with the truth here, and the TRUTH is that come WildCard Weekend, you are going DOWN. There's no escaping the grasp of reality, and your reality is that I and two other men stand between you and the title you so desire. I don't like your odds, sir. On the other hand, you do possess a substance to your in-ring prescence that is lacking with the roster of today... good on you.

"You know, I've been in this game going on 17 years now. I've battled the highest flyers, the most brutal brawlers, the strongest of the strong and the most proficient technicians... I've seen them all, I've faced them all, I've conquered them all. But XWF has always been a thorn in my side, an obstacle I couldn't quite overcome... a group of people I couldn't quite hang with. I didn't fit in, and the way I lived and acted brought out the worst in people. I felt hatred from the top down, and I couldn't handle it. Years later, here I am, watching over the land below me.. the air fills me with an energy I can't get enough of. I'm prepared.

"Everything I've done up to this point has led to this. WildCard Weekend, one night to shed my old self and bring about an inner evolution. A change that could not only alter myself, but lay the groundwork for a revolution here in XWF. Thomas... I love your style, sir. You bring a refreshing prescence to XWF, in a sea of untalented, uncharasmatic noobs... You sir? You bring a style that many people here lack-- you have a firm grasp on your character, you speak with conviction, you know what it takes to make it in a place like Sin City, not to mention the Xtreme Wrestling Federation. You got chops kid, and I respect that.

"Now, you could rest on those words, or you could take them as a sign that you can get better. How? If you're already one of the best, why not shoot for the moon? Why not scrap and claw your way to the top of the mountain and cement your name as the best of the best. ...Why?

"Cuz I already hold onto that title, and I will never, EVER, let it go.

"I don't expect you to back down from me, I don't expect you to settle for anything less than that TV strap, but listen. I've got my eyes locked, and there will be no shaking me. I've returned and I've returned with a renewed focus, my priorities are in check, and I'm ready to show the XWF what makes me tick. It's not sex jokes, shameless jabs or toilet humor... it's pride. I put myself on the line every time I step into the ring, so I can come out the victor, proclaiming myself the better. Nixon, I WILL prove to be your superior, I WILL rise as you fall... and I will hold the XWF Television title in my hands as its champion.

"Believe it."

Broken Hart stands, peering over the edge of the monestary... he soars over the precipice, cowl flapping in the wind, as he falls to the sidewalk below... he couldn't possibly make it, could he? The camera gazes down... and we find no trace of BH...]]> <![CDATA[What's Expected]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=25835 Fri, 09 Dec 2016 23:52:36 -0800 Prof. Bobby Bourbon]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=25835

Beheading Matches, the creation of Savage Saturday Night, and other shit that Robbie Bourbon came up with that he gets no credit for whatsoever.

Poor thing.

WHAT'S EXPECTED

We open to see the darkened scene of a nightclub, circa 2016. The lights blink to the sound of an artist, only not one that can beheld here and now. We see a bevy of young people, some feeling the song, some feeling out of place due to the added gravitas of those not entirely drugged out and dancing and having an experience. We see Vinnie Lane, March, 2016, one of Robbie Bourbon's partners in which his team actually won the title of King of the XWF, but one where the sway towards the crown was pulled in his way.

Ask John Madison. He ate a fucking Robbiebomb through the table, and everybody on the fucking street calls him a legend when Robbie called him street pizza.

In a corner, we see Disco Steve Sayors, Cyberjaw, the man with the cyberjetic jaw, Diamondback, the man who can blend into any crowd, and Xtreme Travel Agent, Cyberjaw's main squeeze, Joe Biden, Vice-King of the Jobbers. We see Robbie in the corner.

So, like about seven months ago.

The XWF was in serious shit. There were massive concerns over whether it would continue. Most people thought that some Other Shitty Wrestling company would take dominance. Nope. Mr. Motherfucking Dominance, Robbie Motherfucking Bourbon, He Who Dominates Dominance, was around, and was fighting when Trax was too chickenshit, too worried about his paycheck cashing, most importantly, too scared of then champion, Vinnie Lane.

Chris Chaos was a fucking afterthought.

Seriously. Afterthought. There was this other Chris. His name was Isles. He had this whole tendency of thinking I was the yin to his yang. Not fucking possible, as far as I'm concerned, because everybody, including Vinnie Lane, counts me as the yin to their yang. Well, I'm not saying I don't fit in that description, but all around, Chris Isles was a deluded simple

with twice the brains of Trax, and to be honest, another guy that Trax was too chickenshit to face but still wonders aloud to the XWF Universe why he was too chickenshit to beat them. Chris Isles was a vicious wrestler in the XWF. He was a legit Intercontinental Champion, he was the captain of a War Games team.

Robbie rubs his nose.

Chris Isles broke my nose.

Robbie looks at the camera.

Chris Isles is fucking gone.

Trax has never beaten me. He's never even tried, because he didn't even care.

Because he knew I was winning to begin with and because I was earning a win.

Trax could never even sniff Chris Isles's shit. I've had so many partners in the XWF it's almost a joke, but the biggest joke of them all? Trax. He gave up the one guy willing to help defend his XWF Universal Championship against the CCWF, and instead...

Paper championship, blank Tag Champs, bullshit beatable XWF Champ afraid of the CCWF and fighting it.

Massive, massive

.

All around.

So the spearhead against the CCWF gets asked, one day, while you're a paper champion, how do we get our ratings back up?

See, Robbie Bourbon invented Savage Saturday Night.

Because the CCWF minds just, well, sucked in comparison.

Vinnie Lane was CCWF champion.

Also, a competitor in OSW.

Robbie steps out of the booth while downing a bottle of Desani.

Welp, happy hunting, fellas.

I'm not creating Savage Saturday Night at the moment.

See you ringside.]]> <![CDATA[Endings]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=25834 Fri, 09 Dec 2016 22:57:55 -0800 Doctor Louis D'Ville]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=25834 The UNIVERSE is dark. No lights. No vision. No flame. No fireworks. No little office. No eery smoke. No red haze.

Nothingness.

A slight sigh can be heard through this nothingness. A groan more less a growl as children's whispers and whimpers accompany the soon to be heavy breathing. After a few moments, a raspy, hoarse voice that is most recognizable to our own ears pierced through the darkness.

"Emptiness. The presence of nothing. The lack of presence of anything."

"Are you familiar with the void? Are you aware of what comes with it?"

"You spoke of expiration dates and of endings. How all things not only come with a beginning, but an end, as well. How my end is much closer than my beginning. Let us shine a bit of light on that."

"Was it my wrinkly forehead? My newly found carefree and relaxed way of ruling this FINE federation? You, of all people here, should be very well with the phrase about judging books by their cover. Just look at your recent proposition to Miss Dolly. If you would judge that young lady by her appearance, well, let's just say, lolli-pops and balloons. HA! But, I am not so ignorant to deny that the young lady is nothing less than a stick of dynamite wrapped in a little pink ribbon. I recognize threats when I encounter them no matter their size, shape, gender, skill, sexual orientation, taste, whatever it may be. I recognize them and handle them accordingly. Tell me, have you felt this threatened since you've first crossed the threshold and started down the path of an XWF superstar? Judging by your former comments, I would have to say you haven't."

"I've beaten your little experience here to death already, I think. Which it truly doesn't matter to me how long you've been here and how long you haven't. I've said that every dog has his or her day and anything is possible. Even if that little possibility is SO little you can barely see it. Barely make it out.... what? What is that??? Is that..... Hope?"

"You know, you're a bit different from anyone I've faced before as well. Not so different as the fact you're not the only one to recognize all of my deeds, my destruction, and capabilities, but the fact that deep down, you know you can't accomplish what so few have. I HAVE been beaten, oh yes, quite recently in fact. So, you must concur that I'm .... well... not necessarily on a warpath, per se, but I do have a few things crawling around in my mind in regards to making up for some mistakes. Maybe, I have to remind the good people that their KING is not dead. He has not been cast from his throne but he is here, in the darkness where I've always watched and listened. Where I've waited and ascended from. Am I here to make an example of you? Not exactly. But when I grab you by your pretty little face and throw you into the void, the world will remember. They will know their KING. The shadow that covered this UNIVERSE once before shall reappear and the fear stricken souls of the XWF will fall to their knees once more. You're, of course, royalty as well, my young prince, but the kingdom you claim is only a speck of the UNIVERSE that surrounds it. Your father claims the darkness, rules it with an iron fist with you not far behind. Yes, live in and rule all in the darkness which I hail. Which I created. The nothingness that you will be plunged into in just a few short days should feel like home then, hm?"

"It will make it that much sweeter, because our fun will not end there. I'm sure, as the young bitch prince that you are, that you've dished out certain punishments of your own nature. Unlike any dungeons your father or father's father has built. Unlike any techniques you may have created and destroyed souls with... it will never compare to the darkness that you will be submerged in... and eaten from within."

The raspy voice creepily echoes away. The loneliness kicks in and we are alone in the dark once more.]]> The UNIVERSE is dark. No lights. No vision. No flame. No fireworks. No little office. No eery smoke. No red haze.

Nothingness.

A slight sigh can be heard through this nothingness. A groan more less a growl as children's whispers and whimpers accompany the soon to be heavy breathing. After a few moments, a raspy, hoarse voice that is most recognizable to our own ears pierced through the darkness.

"Emptiness. The presence of nothing. The lack of presence of anything."

"Are you familiar with the void? Are you aware of what comes with it?"

"You spoke of expiration dates and of endings. How all things not only come with a beginning, but an end, as well. How my end is much closer than my beginning. Let us shine a bit of light on that."

"Was it my wrinkly forehead? My newly found carefree and relaxed way of ruling this FINE federation? You, of all people here, should be very well with the phrase about judging books by their cover. Just look at your recent proposition to Miss Dolly. If you would judge that young lady by her appearance, well, let's just say, lolli-pops and balloons. HA! But, I am not so ignorant to deny that the young lady is nothing less than a stick of dynamite wrapped in a little pink ribbon. I recognize threats when I encounter them no matter their size, shape, gender, skill, sexual orientation, taste, whatever it may be. I recognize them and handle them accordingly. Tell me, have you felt this threatened since you've first crossed the threshold and started down the path of an XWF superstar? Judging by your former comments, I would have to say you haven't."

"I've beaten your little experience here to death already, I think. Which it truly doesn't matter to me how long you've been here and how long you haven't. I've said that every dog has his or her day and anything is possible. Even if that little possibility is SO little you can barely see it. Barely make it out.... what? What is that??? Is that..... Hope?"

"You know, you're a bit different from anyone I've faced before as well. Not so different as the fact you're not the only one to recognize all of my deeds, my destruction, and capabilities, but the fact that deep down, you know you can't accomplish what so few have. I HAVE been beaten, oh yes, quite recently in fact. So, you must concur that I'm .... well... not necessarily on a warpath, per se, but I do have a few things crawling around in my mind in regards to making up for some mistakes. Maybe, I have to remind the good people that their KING is not dead. He has not been cast from his throne but he is here, in the darkness where I've always watched and listened. Where I've waited and ascended from. Am I here to make an example of you? Not exactly. But when I grab you by your pretty little face and throw you into the void, the world will remember. They will know their KING. The shadow that covered this UNIVERSE once before shall reappear and the fear stricken souls of the XWF will fall to their knees once more. You're, of course, royalty as well, my young prince, but the kingdom you claim is only a speck of the UNIVERSE that surrounds it. Your father claims the darkness, rules it with an iron fist with you not far behind. Yes, live in and rule all in the darkness which I hail. Which I created. The nothingness that you will be plunged into in just a few short days should feel like home then, hm?"

"It will make it that much sweeter, because our fun will not end there. I'm sure, as the young bitch prince that you are, that you've dished out certain punishments of your own nature. Unlike any dungeons your father or father's father has built. Unlike any techniques you may have created and destroyed souls with... it will never compare to the darkness that you will be submerged in... and eaten from within."

The raspy voice creepily echoes away. The loneliness kicks in and we are alone in the dark once more.]]> <![CDATA[Fin]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=25831 Fri, 09 Dec 2016 21:35:48 -0800 Chris Chaos]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=25831 FLASHBACK

The black Jeep Wrangler Sahara pulled up to the arena in Atlantic City, heavy metal blasting.

The music and the engine cutsimultaneously, and the door swung open. Out stepped a jeaned leg, True Religions, with white Puma tennis shoes. It was followed by a Ralph Lauren covered torso, a striped arrangement consistenting of red and black letts and goulish designs, one of those funky design tees Polo makes. A small horse labeled the breast. It was Chris Chaos. Chris Jackson, by birth. He grabbed his gym bag out of the back and slung it over his shoulder. He tossed his key to the valet.

Wow, valet, Vinnie knows what he is doing. Shocking.

The 28 year old superstar made his way toward his locker room, when he was stopped by the XWF Interviewer Steve Sayors.

He would, however, entertain this little twerp today because he knew what the man was going to ask and he wasn't finished talking about it.

"Chris....Chris....on behalf of the XWF community can I have a word with you?!"

Stopping, turning towards the man, he grinned.

"Of course you can, Steve. What do you want to know?"

"Well, Chris, how are you feeling only hours before the biggest match of your career?"

"Well, let me start by correcting your statement. This is not the biggest match of my career, the match at Warfare against Trax and Bourbon was the biggest match of my career to date....and I blew it. But it will be soon. Until then, it was Warfare. I had the win at my fingertips and I let it slip away. When I knew I was going to be in this match I knew my revenge was imminent. I knew that by some divine province, this would all somehow make sense. So, to answer your question, in the waking hours before the second biggest match of my career, I certainly have goosebumps. I have butterflies in my stomach, but I am confident all the same. I feel like I am going to win."

"Do you feel like the cards are stacked against you in this match?"

"I always feel like they are stacked against me. I always feel like I have a giant bullseye on my back. Anyone who can take me out, to end the chaos, will do so in a heartbeat. There are 3 other competitors in this match that all want me gone for good, and its every man for themselves. I feel it in my bones. Trax doesn't want to end me, but he would like to have the title around his waste and not mine all the same. Yes, I feel like the cards are stacked against me, but I wouldn't have it any other way. It is all part of my legacy, my story, my legend. To come back and beat Bourbon in a 1-on-1 match, sure it would be great, but this would be the story book ending. I failed the first time, now I have to outlast 5 of XWF's top superstars to win the belt I truly deserve--I'd say that's a feat for the ages."

"Wow, okay. Well, do you think you have time for a few more?"

Glancing at his Movado watch, he nods.

"A few more, but make it snappy kid. I've got brutality waiting."

"You certainly do. Do you feel like this match will define your career?"

"In a way, yes. However, and rather unfortunately, my last match with Trax and Bourbon defined my career. As much as I will say it was my matches with Ginger, Promo Sins, Dillinger, Brett Hart, the rest---it wasn't. It was the match with Robbie. Everyone will remember me for losing, and none of it would have happened if it weren't for cheating Robbie Bourbon. I hate him with every inch of my being. Bourbon defined my career, to this date, but he hasn't ruined it. He tried, but he has failed to take me out. Same with RENO. I can't win the big one, right? Well.....that all changes in a matter of hours. Now I get to come back at him with the rage of a tsunami and the force of a wrecking ball. Bourbon has caused me so much pain and anguish, physically, mentally, emotionally---it would only be proper to return the favor. Hammarabi's code, an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth. Bourbon has it coming, and you bet your ass he's going to get it."

"Okay, last one Chris, I know you have to prepare. How do you feel about---"

Chris cuts him off.

"Gilmour is a sniveling little rat who has been spoon fed this title by the puppeteers at the top. Someone is pulling the strings around here, and I am about to cut the rope. The bullshit ends here, the Peter Gilmour era ends tonight. I will take the "God Of Extreme" out if it is the last fucking thing I do. I will make him suffer. I will define HIS career after tonight. He will always be remembered as the man who had a promising career ended abruptly by the man who will go down as the greatest to ever do it. Remember what I said about heroes and villains? Everyone will remember the bad guy, and Bourbons comic-book run reaches its final page tonight....end dialogue bubble."

He grins at the oft-bullied commentator, and walks away. The interviewer beams, knowing he just got another classic interview with the next XWF Universal Champion.

+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+

Fin.

Some things simply need to be said. Others, they are probably better left unsaid. Chris and everyone else in this match has said everything there is to say. All the shit talking, it is played out now. Now, the only thing left to do is fight.

This would be the last thing Chris would say before he stepped into that god awful, demonic structure. It was over. Finished. Kaput. The End.

Fin.

The talking stops here. The fighting commences. The pain and torture ensues. This is the grand finale. Once that chamber door closed, the best man would emerge. That best man would be crowned with the top prize in this business. 6 of the best this business has to offer. By the end...there will be one left. Kind of a weird finality to that. Something that symbolized not only the match but perhaps the end of an era. You take the 6 top guys in professional wrestling and put them in this structure…..odds say at least 1 will have to take some time off. But probably more. The finality of that in and of itself is crazy. It’s chaotic. It’s a new beginning, and a new end.

Fin.

Have you ever wanted to get something over with so bad that it eats you alive? So bad that your body itches and aches just thinking about it? It makes you bite your nails down to the cuticles. It makes you pull your hair out. You just want it to begin already. But then when you get there, you realize it isn’t as special as you anticipated? It is either much easier—like Chris is about to experience—or much harder than you anticipated. But you have to fight and claw your way out of it. You have to end it, some how, some way. And you will. To every new beginning, there is always an end.

Fin.

But what is an end game? Most people go into the big obstacles in their life not having one. But you need to have an end game. When you go into a big job interview, for example, you need to have an end game. If you get the job, you go in and kick ass. If you don’t get the job, the responsible thing to do would be to have other interviews and ideas for careers in line. Just. In. Case. That is an end game. It is the plan you put in place to signify what happens at the end of your quest. Chris had an end game. His plan, obviously, was to win the Universal Title and defend it...to rule the XWF with an iron fist. BUT, he did have an end game. He never went into any endeavor without one. IF, and it was a small IF, he didn’t come out of the chamber with the strap, he was going to create a chaotic title wave so massive and severe that superstars will be afraid to come to work. His rage will have no foreseeable ending. Anyone and everyone is a target. Anyone and everyone will be within striking distance. That is an end game. A plan. The match has to end one way or another, and Chris knew exactly what he had to do to end it. One way or another, life as they knew it in the XWF would come to an end.

Fin.

Have you ever watched a really good movie? A movie that was so captivating that you couldn’t even get up to refill your soda? A movie so good you have to mentally train your bladder to expand more than anatomically possible just so you don’t miss any of it? A movie so good that you hate yourself for crying a little at the end, even if it wasn’t designed for that outcome? Yes you have. That is a movie that you never want to have an end. But then again, there is a movie that is so bad you are just praying for it to end. A movie so bad that you would rather stick your dick in a meat grinder (or your tits in a vice, lets be socially conscious here) than watch another minute of it? A movie so bad that a cheese grater to the neck seems like a logical solution? A movie so bad that you force yourself to take a shit to miss as much of it as possible—the only reason you didn’t leave was because of the $12 movie ticket? Yes, you have. That is a movie you can’t wait to end. You pray for it to end. The same applies to a TV show, a play, hell even a wrestling match. Some wrestling matches captivate you so much that you talk about them with your friends for years. That is what this match is going to be. If you have the stomach for blood, this is the match for you. This will be the match of the century. Fuck the match of the year. It will bring ratings through the roof. It will be the match that single handedly brings XWF into the black for the entire 2017 calendar year. And walking out of that match, at the end, will be Chris Chaos. The new beginning to the same end.

Fin.

This was a match that defined careers. You know what that feeling feels like when you go to retire? When you go to make that decision to walk away from it all? What does that feel like? It probably feels like what it feels like to leave the Elimination Chamber holding the one thing you worked your entire career for. It probably feels like you have finally found vindication. Like you finally found peace. Albeit short, you found it. Because you know you did your best, you made an impact, and you came out on top. But, what else is an end? You could get fired. How does it feel to get fired? Probably the same way it feels to leave the chamber without the belt. That soul crushing kind of defeat you feel when you worked your entire life just to have it ripped from you. Just to have everything you ever thought you loved taken away and you have to start all over. That is the type of end that 5 men will inevitably feel. The end.

Fin.

But then there is the end of a road. A road can only go so many places. A road can only take you where you need to go, and sometimes where you don’t. Once you hit the end, you have reached your destination. But you could have reached a dead end. Not your destination, but have nowhere to go. Now your end becomes your beginning as you have to turn around. For 5 men, this journey into the most hellish structure ever conjured up by mankind will be a dead end. For 5 men this will be the end of the road. 1 will turn around and begin a new adventure, but for the end of that journey----who knows. That is the beauty of it. There is magic in the beginning but a sort of beauty in the end.

Fin.

FLASHBACK:

3:15 AM

It’s interesting to watch, really. Life, completely engineered and controlled by human forces, living in their own world with completely no knowledge of the outside world. Living beings that only know one way of life and are content to live it that way---through ignorance over any other reason. Their bliss is man made, and their life is 100 percent dictated by the actions of a higher being on the chain of life. When something can live in complete peace and harmony, oblivious to the violence, devastation and destruction of a cold world around it. Also to live in harmony outside of life’s natural order. Beings that wouldn’t survive in a kill or be killed world, wouldn’t live a day without their artificial habitat. Life at its truest, purest and happiest, and the farthest thing from natural. An atmosphere, and entire world, and they are just happy as can be. Not a care in the world.

Staring at his 50 gallon tank, the man known as Chris Chaos is in deep thought, almost mesmerized by the site of something he sees every day of his life.

"These creatures would be nothing if I did not allow them to be, but I have chosen to give them a good life. They are healthy and content. If I didn’t set the tone for their existence, who knows where they’d be. I bought them, I bought their home, their toys----I paid to give them a clean atmosphere to live in, to make sure the filtration system is proper. They are like family—I feed them, provide living space—I am like a father to them.

He stood up off the foot of the bed, bending down to grab the orange cylinder containing the goldfish flakes. He opened the top and looked in. Noticing this, and knowing it was time for food, they floated to the surface, mouth up, and sucked at the surface of the water. The fish looked him straight in the eye---with their wide, almost pleading eyes---opening and clothes their mouths with an audible glub glub.

Without him, they would starve. They would shrivel up and die. Their little insides would wither practically to nothing and they would suffer greatly before they finally perished. All of their awesome orange color would dissipate and they would be nothing but grayish white shells of what once was. He screwed off the cap of the food bottle.

"You rely on me for food, and I’m gonna feed you little buddies. I will feed you---just like I will feed the XWF--a little......chaos."

++++

“May the best man win. I am done with the talking. But just so all of you know, there is a REASON that Trax had me eliminated last in his little promo. It is because he knows I will be there at the end. He knows I will be there when the chips are down. HE knows he will have to eliminate ME in order to win. But I think deep down he knows he can’t do it. That is why he has me there at the end. He fears me. Either way. I don’t care to talk anymore. I have said all that is needed to be said. We all have. At this point, talking won’t win a title. Fighting will. May the best man win.

For every new beginning there is an end.

Fin.”

[Image: JBm4RSW.jpg]

FIN]]> FLASHBACK

The black Jeep Wrangler Sahara pulled up to the arena in Atlantic City, heavy metal blasting.

The music and the engine cutsimultaneously, and the door swung open. Out stepped a jeaned leg, True Religions, with white Puma tennis shoes. It was followed by a Ralph Lauren covered torso, a striped arrangement consistenting of red and black letts and goulish designs, one of those funky design tees Polo makes. A small horse labeled the breast. It was Chris Chaos. Chris Jackson, by birth. He grabbed his gym bag out of the back and slung it over his shoulder. He tossed his key to the valet.

Wow, valet, Vinnie knows what he is doing. Shocking.

The 28 year old superstar made his way toward his locker room, when he was stopped by the XWF Interviewer Steve Sayors.

He would, however, entertain this little twerp today because he knew what the man was going to ask and he wasn't finished talking about it.

"Chris....Chris....on behalf of the XWF community can I have a word with you?!"

Stopping, turning towards the man, he grinned.

"Of course you can, Steve. What do you want to know?"

"Well, Chris, how are you feeling only hours before the biggest match of your career?"

"Well, let me start by correcting your statement. This is not the biggest match of my career, the match at Warfare against Trax and Bourbon was the biggest match of my career to date....and I blew it. But it will be soon. Until then, it was Warfare. I had the win at my fingertips and I let it slip away. When I knew I was going to be in this match I knew my revenge was imminent. I knew that by some divine province, this would all somehow make sense. So, to answer your question, in the waking hours before the second biggest match of my career, I certainly have goosebumps. I have butterflies in my stomach, but I am confident all the same. I feel like I am going to win."

"Do you feel like the cards are stacked against you in this match?"

"I always feel like they are stacked against me. I always feel like I have a giant bullseye on my back. Anyone who can take me out, to end the chaos, will do so in a heartbeat. There are 3 other competitors in this match that all want me gone for good, and its every man for themselves. I feel it in my bones. Trax doesn't want to end me, but he would like to have the title around his waste and not mine all the same. Yes, I feel like the cards are stacked against me, but I wouldn't have it any other way. It is all part of my legacy, my story, my legend. To come back and beat Bourbon in a 1-on-1 match, sure it would be great, but this would be the story book ending. I failed the first time, now I have to outlast 5 of XWF's top superstars to win the belt I truly deserve--I'd say that's a feat for the ages."

"Wow, okay. Well, do you think you have time for a few more?"

Glancing at his Movado watch, he nods.

"A few more, but make it snappy kid. I've got brutality waiting."

"You certainly do. Do you feel like this match will define your career?"

"In a way, yes. However, and rather unfortunately, my last match with Trax and Bourbon defined my career. As much as I will say it was my matches with Ginger, Promo Sins, Dillinger, Brett Hart, the rest---it wasn't. It was the match with Robbie. Everyone will remember me for losing, and none of it would have happened if it weren't for cheating Robbie Bourbon. I hate him with every inch of my being. Bourbon defined my career, to this date, but he hasn't ruined it. He tried, but he has failed to take me out. Same with RENO. I can't win the big one, right? Well.....that all changes in a matter of hours. Now I get to come back at him with the rage of a tsunami and the force of a wrecking ball. Bourbon has caused me so much pain and anguish, physically, mentally, emotionally---it would only be proper to return the favor. Hammarabi's code, an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth. Bourbon has it coming, and you bet your ass he's going to get it."

"Okay, last one Chris, I know you have to prepare. How do you feel about---"

Chris cuts him off.

"Gilmour is a sniveling little rat who has been spoon fed this title by the puppeteers at the top. Someone is pulling the strings around here, and I am about to cut the rope. The bullshit ends here, the Peter Gilmour era ends tonight. I will take the "God Of Extreme" out if it is the last fucking thing I do. I will make him suffer. I will define HIS career after tonight. He will always be remembered as the man who had a promising career ended abruptly by the man who will go down as the greatest to ever do it. Remember what I said about heroes and villains? Everyone will remember the bad guy, and Bourbons comic-book run reaches its final page tonight....end dialogue bubble."

He grins at the oft-bullied commentator, and walks away. The interviewer beams, knowing he just got another classic interview with the next XWF Universal Champion.

+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+

Fin.

Some things simply need to be said. Others, they are probably better left unsaid. Chris and everyone else in this match has said everything there is to say. All the shit talking, it is played out now. Now, the only thing left to do is fight.

This would be the last thing Chris would say before he stepped into that god awful, demonic structure. It was over. Finished. Kaput. The End.

Fin.

The talking stops here. The fighting commences. The pain and torture ensues. This is the grand finale. Once that chamber door closed, the best man would emerge. That best man would be crowned with the top prize in this business. 6 of the best this business has to offer. By the end...there will be one left. Kind of a weird finality to that. Something that symbolized not only the match but perhaps the end of an era. You take the 6 top guys in professional wrestling and put them in this structure…..odds say at least 1 will have to take some time off. But probably more. The finality of that in and of itself is crazy. It’s chaotic. It’s a new beginning, and a new end.

Fin.

Have you ever wanted to get something over with so bad that it eats you alive? So bad that your body itches and aches just thinking about it? It makes you bite your nails down to the cuticles. It makes you pull your hair out. You just want it to begin already. But then when you get there, you realize it isn’t as special as you anticipated? It is either much easier—like Chris is about to experience—or much harder than you anticipated. But you have to fight and claw your way out of it. You have to end it, some how, some way. And you will. To every new beginning, there is always an end.

Fin.

But what is an end game? Most people go into the big obstacles in their life not having one. But you need to have an end game. When you go into a big job interview, for example, you need to have an end game. If you get the job, you go in and kick ass. If you don’t get the job, the responsible thing to do would be to have other interviews and ideas for careers in line. Just. In. Case. That is an end game. It is the plan you put in place to signify what happens at the end of your quest. Chris had an end game. His plan, obviously, was to win the Universal Title and defend it...to rule the XWF with an iron fist. BUT, he did have an end game. He never went into any endeavor without one. IF, and it was a small IF, he didn’t come out of the chamber with the strap, he was going to create a chaotic title wave so massive and severe that superstars will be afraid to come to work. His rage will have no foreseeable ending. Anyone and everyone is a target. Anyone and everyone will be within striking distance. That is an end game. A plan. The match has to end one way or another, and Chris knew exactly what he had to do to end it. One way or another, life as they knew it in the XWF would come to an end.

Fin.

Have you ever watched a really good movie? A movie that was so captivating that you couldn’t even get up to refill your soda? A movie so good you have to mentally train your bladder to expand more than anatomically possible just so you don’t miss any of it? A movie so good that you hate yourself for crying a little at the end, even if it wasn’t designed for that outcome? Yes you have. That is a movie that you never want to have an end. But then again, there is a movie that is so bad you are just praying for it to end. A movie so bad that you would rather stick your dick in a meat grinder (or your tits in a vice, lets be socially conscious here) than watch another minute of it? A movie so bad that a cheese grater to the neck seems like a logical solution? A movie so bad that you force yourself to take a shit to miss as much of it as possible—the only reason you didn’t leave was because of the $12 movie ticket? Yes, you have. That is a movie you can’t wait to end. You pray for it to end. The same applies to a TV show, a play, hell even a wrestling match. Some wrestling matches captivate you so much that you talk about them with your friends for years. That is what this match is going to be. If you have the stomach for blood, this is the match for you. This will be the match of the century. Fuck the match of the year. It will bring ratings through the roof. It will be the match that single handedly brings XWF into the black for the entire 2017 calendar year. And walking out of that match, at the end, will be Chris Chaos. The new beginning to the same end.

Fin.

This was a match that defined careers. You know what that feeling feels like when you go to retire? When you go to make that decision to walk away from it all? What does that feel like? It probably feels like what it feels like to leave the Elimination Chamber holding the one thing you worked your entire career for. It probably feels like you have finally found vindication. Like you finally found peace. Albeit short, you found it. Because you know you did your best, you made an impact, and you came out on top. But, what else is an end? You could get fired. How does it feel to get fired? Probably the same way it feels to leave the chamber without the belt. That soul crushing kind of defeat you feel when you worked your entire life just to have it ripped from you. Just to have everything you ever thought you loved taken away and you have to start all over. That is the type of end that 5 men will inevitably feel. The end.

Fin.

But then there is the end of a road. A road can only go so many places. A road can only take you where you need to go, and sometimes where you don’t. Once you hit the end, you have reached your destination. But you could have reached a dead end. Not your destination, but have nowhere to go. Now your end becomes your beginning as you have to turn around. For 5 men, this journey into the most hellish structure ever conjured up by mankind will be a dead end. For 5 men this will be the end of the road. 1 will turn around and begin a new adventure, but for the end of that journey----who knows. That is the beauty of it. There is magic in the beginning but a sort of beauty in the end.

Fin.

FLASHBACK:

3:15 AM

It’s interesting to watch, really. Life, completely engineered and controlled by human forces, living in their own world with completely no knowledge of the outside world. Living beings that only know one way of life and are content to live it that way---through ignorance over any other reason. Their bliss is man made, and their life is 100 percent dictated by the actions of a higher being on the chain of life. When something can live in complete peace and harmony, oblivious to the violence, devastation and destruction of a cold world around it. Also to live in harmony outside of life’s natural order. Beings that wouldn’t survive in a kill or be killed world, wouldn’t live a day without their artificial habitat. Life at its truest, purest and happiest, and the farthest thing from natural. An atmosphere, and entire world, and they are just happy as can be. Not a care in the world.

Staring at his 50 gallon tank, the man known as Chris Chaos is in deep thought, almost mesmerized by the site of something he sees every day of his life.

"These creatures would be nothing if I did not allow them to be, but I have chosen to give them a good life. They are healthy and content. If I didn’t set the tone for their existence, who knows where they’d be. I bought them, I bought their home, their toys----I paid to give them a clean atmosphere to live in, to make sure the filtration system is proper. They are like family—I feed them, provide living space—I am like a father to them.

He stood up off the foot of the bed, bending down to grab the orange cylinder containing the goldfish flakes. He opened the top and looked in. Noticing this, and knowing it was time for food, they floated to the surface, mouth up, and sucked at the surface of the water. The fish looked him straight in the eye---with their wide, almost pleading eyes---opening and clothes their mouths with an audible glub glub.

Without him, they would starve. They would shrivel up and die. Their little insides would wither practically to nothing and they would suffer greatly before they finally perished. All of their awesome orange color would dissipate and they would be nothing but grayish white shells of what once was. He screwed off the cap of the food bottle.

"You rely on me for food, and I’m gonna feed you little buddies. I will feed you---just like I will feed the XWF--a little......chaos."

++++

“May the best man win. I am done with the talking. But just so all of you know, there is a REASON that Trax had me eliminated last in his little promo. It is because he knows I will be there at the end. He knows I will be there when the chips are down. HE knows he will have to eliminate ME in order to win. But I think deep down he knows he can’t do it. That is why he has me there at the end. He fears me. Either way. I don’t care to talk anymore. I have said all that is needed to be said. We all have. At this point, talking won’t win a title. Fighting will. May the best man win.

For every new beginning there is an end.

Fin.”

[Image: JBm4RSW.jpg]

FIN]]> <![CDATA[Not Jesus]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=25830 Fri, 09 Dec 2016 20:18:03 -0800 Doctor Louis D'Ville]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=25830

014

N O T .............. J E S U S

"I'm not feeling a pulse! It's really faint! We have to move!"

"Hurry up get him in the back!"

Two paramedics shout at each other as the whole crew tries their absolute best to balance the very large Trevor across a gurney. It took five grown men to pick him up to even place on the gurney, so the ambulance backs up a little closer to the wreckage. Now, five paramedics and a police officer struggle to wheel him over. The one side of it begins to buckle, but two of men shift over and and assist holding it up and finally slide the big man into the back.

The charter bus lied on it's side, it appears as though it was on fire as the hot metal still hisses. The six different fire departments focus on getting the bus out of there now that the the chaos is has dissipated. It seems like a thousand people are there running around with an ambulance or emergency vehicle to compensate for each one. People lie on the ground, moaning and crying in pain while being tended to someone with either a blanket or bandages.

"Just buckle him in where he is! We don't have the time or the fucking room to push him over!"

The one paramedic screams. The other medic crawls over Trevor's mountainous stomach and pulls one strap up. It doesn't even reach up and around him. Same with the strap on the near side.

"How is this even possible?"

"What?!"

"We can't buckle him in, he's too fuckin' fat!"

"You gotta move, let's go! Get the fuck out of here!"

Some other guy was outside the ambulance pounding on the back.

"Now! Now! Now!"

He looks in and signals for the one to jump up there and start driving, which he does. The man outside slams the back doors and pounds a couple of more times on the back.

"I'll strap in the gurney, just take it easy around turns and shit. This guy is like a beached whale."

As the one medic sits up front and begins to drive, the one in the back begins working on him. The ambulance lights and siren fire up and they are now on their way to the closest hospital.

On the sidelines of it all, Doc and a lady paramedic stand and share a cigar through the mayhem that ensues in front of all of them.

"Do you think I should do something?"

She says.

"You're tending to ME, are you not?"

She shrugs and takes another drag from the cigar as the shit that ensues around them appears in complete slow motion. They watch as several different officers, paramedics, pedestrians, drivers, cyclists, you name it go by.

"So what now?"

She glares up at him with her pretty crystal eyes and passes the cigar. Doc takes it back with a smile.

"Well, we get away from here for one thing. I suppose, you ARE still a marked-man. Or woman."

He laughs.

"You suppose, huh?"

She rolls her eyes and reaches for the cigar again, but the doc denies her of it.

"I do."

Doc just smiles and walks away from her and the whole crash scene, which remains in it's warped state. The lady sighs and grumbles as she follows the doctor across the street and into a small pub.

As she enters the doors a few steps behind Doc, the inside reveals itself to not a pub or any type of bar at all. It's the cozy, comfortable office of none other than the good doctor, himself. She rolls her eyes.

"You know I was hoping for a decent drink coming in here..."

The doctor laughs.

"You know where it is."

She doesn't hesitate for the little drink bar behind the desk.

"Yeah, but you always have the same old crap, man."

"I see you still don't mind helping yourself, though, Trevor..."

"It's the least you could do for me."

She begins pouring a drink and sipping a bit in between spills to catch up on off-time.

"Don't tell me that vagina has gone to your head already?"

Trevor finishes the glass of whiskey, pours another, and turns to the doc sitting in his chair now.

"You know, your stuff isn't so bad I guess."

The Trevor-woman passes out in front of the doc and he laughs and laughs as it lays awkwardly beside him. He swings the chair around and pours himself a quick drink and swings back around to find his desk.

"Some people forget their own weight class around here, apparently."

Doc takes another sip and looks down at the little girly Trevor lying on the floor beside him.

"Speaking of which, young Master Duke, how have you been?"

The doc smiles widely.

"Times ARE coming to a close, my little friend. Tensions are tightening up, butterflies are fluttering, and people are talking. The possible results of this session are so unpredictable and so up in the air, no pun intended, that there isn't a single fellow around here that can say it can go one way or another, for sure. I'm not afraid to bring to light a few past shortcomings, which no doubt, opens up a world of opportunities, doesn't it? That's probably why I'm in the position I'm in RIGHT now. Placed in a huge match, with a fellow holding a piece of the XWF within himself that no one else can ever touch, that he has no clue what it even is."

"You have that DUKE blood flowing all through your veins, my boy. It's given you not only power, but a piece of a legacy that is a little more than just a little prince coming into a new world looking for domination, just like the path of destruction that your fathers followed. Like I had mentioned, I've sensed a bit of self-entitlement around here. Not just with you, but with quite a few others, as well. You have your facts though, right? These facts you've been pointing out and pointing out to Mister Lane about titles and what not, yes, it can be perceived a little bit as whining. Whether you were whining because you were bored or whining because you felt you were mishandled by Mister Lane, I, too, see a misconception. I understand that you're very excited to have a chance to actually be involved with someone 'worth your while', right? But you can skip over the groveling and praising, young Master Duke, I know what my capabilities are, because of course, facts are facts."

"Another fact is, just like your father, my legacy and my 'spot', as you put it, in this FINE federation is cemented into the foundation. Engraved in the stone. Tattooed to the brains and burned into the mind. Forever, Mister Duke. Not like the four piss stains you've left on the carpet. Don't think I'm just beating the dead horse of the fact that you've just never faced anyone, I'm well aware that you've had no choice over whom you've faced over the past month since your arrival. You have full intention of taking this 'gift', ha-ha, given to you from Mister Loverboy and taking it far, far passed any limits."

"Gift, indeed. Have you seen other 'gifts' that Mister Loverboy has been handing out? Look at Chris Chaos, for example, on miscalculation on my part. One, slow reaction, and boom. The little shit is fighting for the Universal Title a few minutes after your poor, frail little frame flails from the rafters of the arena. THAT was a gift, signed by Doctor Louis D'Ville, himself. Mister Chaos barely escaped with his life when he faced me, and I've heard that he just can't stop talking about it. Will you be the same if you happen to pull a fast one on the old, Doc? Will you use this victory to hoist your career to heights that your father has even yet and never will see?"

"I'm sure he's been giving you a full line of what to expect around here in the big leagues too, right? What folks will say, how some will react to your presence here. Daddy know's best, right? Just so we're crystal on this, I never actually cared about any type of relationship you have with Miss Dolly. It's funny how some react as you twist the knife in certain cases, but not you, Little Dukey. You don't flinch, do you? Cooooool as a cucumber. Your snobbish, sophisticated-ness sends the sensation of a finger shoved in my throat forcing my lunch to revisit. I went a little far in describing what your fate is, but I like to use my imagination, my friend. So, minus the silliness and the ridiculousness that is apparently SO absurd to you... I'm gonna hurt you. Simple as that. Will you bleed? Most definitely. Broken bones? Most definitely. Burns? Sure! See, that doesn't sound as silly as me tearing you to pieces, gobbling you up, shitting out part of you, and puking up the rest. Which, whether you believe it or not, ha-ha, I still plan on doing."

"I do adore your modesty though. You're stepping into a warzone with what some have called the BIG BAD WOLF of the XWF. I am a KING in my own right and I've destroyed a lot of my opposition. I've won titles. I've beaten the absolute best. You know all of this and you still stand strong against me. Fearless? I doubt it, but you're not showing it. Everyone fears SOMEthing, dear Mister Duke. Whether it's heights.... Water..... Enclosed spaces... Pain..."

"Death."

"I'm sure there's something in there, deep below that fire that's burning inside of you. I'm sure that little boy that you've been forced to suppress as you grew into the young warrior that you are is crying his little eyes out right now. Trembling in the cold, dark corners of your soul. Forgotten about. Starving... Alone. I will make you remember what you truly are, my little friend. I will bring it out and destroy you with it. These are the things that your father could not tell you about, he could not warn you about because he's never experienced them himself. The Sebastian Duke-Era was far over when I first stepped out from the shadows. He, too, has no clue what his young, beloved son is up against."

"It will all be clear soon enough. You're most right about one thing, Mister Duke, we can agree that this will be the most stellar event of both evenings combined. Not a single competition before, or even the main event following us, is going to compare to the action, the awe, and amazing feats that they are all going to witness. A money maker? Ha-ha, perhaps. Whether that was on Mister Loverboy's mind when he put all of this together, I'm uncertain. Or whether he just wanted to surprise you with something worth while after all of your 'FACTS'. Truth is, you're going to wish you weren't so outspoken. When you're crawling around, broken and lost in the fiery pit after I cast you from this UNIVERSE into it... You will take back all of your whining.... Sorry, misinterpreted whining. It's one thing working your way to the top, Mister Duke, but like so many others, like your pending little girlfriend, you're going to get so far then get a boot in your face sending you right back down. And it just so happens, that boot is usually mine. Tell ya what, I think there's still some left over Dolly on the bottom of it. I'll just scrape it off it your face."

The Doc is now pacing back and forth in his office, like he usually ends up doing. He hears a whimper behind him and turns around to his surprise.

"Lou??"

Pretty little Trevor is now sitting in Doc's chair behind his desk.

"Ah, welcome back, Trevor. You can't handle as much of that poison as you did yesterday, could you?"

Doc chuckles and quickly stops, realizing something is wrong. From behind the large leather seat that Trevor occupies, emerges the man in black from before. He's holding a pistol in his hand and wraps his arm around the sweet little lady.

"Hello again."

The doctor's smile turns to a frown instantly. The man in black points the gun to Trevor's girly temple.

"I'm pretty sure when we agreed on your little escapades and adventures here, that there were a few rules to follow along with it, right?"

Doc says nothing and continues to stare at the man in black. Trevor looks up at the man, without breaking his/her posture against the chair.

"Listen mother fucker, I'm sick of being the little guinea pig in all of your sick games. Why can't you just leave us---------"

The man in black waves his hand and mutes the voice coming from Trevor's sweet lips. They continue to move, but no sound escapes her lips.

"Since you refuse to comply to what rules I lay down, I'm afraid, ONCE AGAIN, I take matters into my own hands."

"Sending your cronies from the Heaven's to destroy him wasn't very morale either, my good sir. You even stated that my certain habits of destruction need to be cut back a bit. You see what became of one of your little cities?"

"Silence."

The man in black presses the barrel of the gun even harder into Trevor's temple.

"When I take matters into MY own hands, I do what I have to. I'll be the one to destroy this UNIVERSE before I allow you to."

The doctor laughs at the man.

"Is that so? You silly fool. My intentions were to never destroy your creation. Only to... Enjoy it a bit myself...."

"What do you call this?"

The man in black points to Lady-Trevor sitting in the chair.

"How many people have died to keep you up here? How many souls have you stolen? All of that for THIS wasted life. The only reason I allowed you to use him was because he was damned from the beginning, long before you got your filthy hands on him. It's time for YOU TO GO!"

"Now, now. There's no reason to get upset here. Surely, there's another way to handle this."

The man in black pulls back with his thumb and wraps his index finger around the trigger.

"I'm afraid not."

]]>

014

N O T .............. J E S U S

]]> <![CDATA[Unity and Vengeance - Part 3]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=25829 Fri, 09 Dec 2016 17:24:58 -0800 Thomas Nixon]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=25829

The Tony Kornheiser show is a daily podcast that airs from an undisclosed third floor location in Washington, DC. Technically, the show is a sports podcast although guests and conversations often take the hosts far off topic. The typical cast of the show is Tony Kornheiser, a sports writer that appears on ESPN television show “Pardon the Interruption”, Chris Saliza, and Michael Kornheiser. A few other people chime in the background, but they are quiet during the following interview. We join the hour long daily podcast about half way into the show.

“Today, we have a unique guest, so let me give you folks some context about this before we bring him on. Apparently there is a wrestling company called XWF, and the wrestlers, I believe, are absolutely insane. It’s not WWE because they apparently really beat each other up. But it’s also not like that dumb UFC kick fighting that I can’t stand.” Tony started.

“Yes, Tony. Only a couple weeks ago, a teenage girl legitimately broke a man’s arm during a match.” Michael added.

“Michael, tell them about the videos you made me watch. Real quick before we bring our guest on. The ones that were on the Twitter machine that you showed me.”

“Our guest today, is Thomas Nixon. He wrestles for XWF and he just started competing about a month ago. Before his first match, he addressed the XWF audience. He told them that he was fighting to bring attention to the oppression of the lizard people. He –“

“Lizard people? Did I hear that right?” Saliza interrupts rudely.

“Yes. He said that the government has been oppressing lizard people for decades. Apparently Nixon is very serious about helping the lizard people, and it has kind of gone viral.” Michael concluded.

“Wow. That is something.” Saliza added.

“Great, so let’s get Thomas Nixon on. Are you there Thomas?”

“Yeah, I’m on, Tony.”

“XWF wrestler, Thomas Nixon is live on the phone with us today from Philadelphia. How are you Thomas?”

“I’m doing great, Tony. Before we get started, I just want to say I’m a loyal little, and I really am happy to talk to the bald, orange man that I listen to every day on the pod.”

Although Nixon isn’t truly a fan of the Tony Kornheiser Show, he knew that it would be smart to start off the conversation with some of the show’s inside jokes. He did his research. Like he expected, this got a laugh out of the show’s cast, before Tony began conducting the interview.

“That’s great, Thomas. So we were just talking about your unique inspiration to become a wrestler in XWF, do you care to elaborate on this? What brought you to XWF?”

“So, I’ve seen a lot of bad stuff in my life. I’ve seen the oppression of a group of people that is absolutely disgusting. I know that regular folks would think I’m an absolute maniac if I tried to get on CNN and talk about the oppression of lizard people. As an athlete, I chose to take my skills to a place where I can channel my frustration. In the XWF, I want people to understand the issue of the lizard people’s oppression, and I can use my passion on the issue to propel me to the top of XWF’s ranks.”

“Just to clarify, you’re being 100% serious. You genuinely believe that lizard people not only exist but they are being oppressed by the United States government?”

“I don’t just believe it, I know it. I’ve interacted with lizard people. I understand how our government has hurt them.”

“Well as a rational human being, excuse me for not taking your word for it. You sound very serious and very passionate and I like that. That’s why I’m a sports writer. People love teams that they can get behind and root for. We love underdogs. Do you think it matters if people actually believe what you’re saying? Does that impact how you’re perceived by fans?”

“Well I think that some people believe me and some don’t. I agree with you, Tony. If I can get people to cheer for me, I hope that they’ll realize that I’m not a joke. When they see I’m serious and passionate, they will realize that I’m not making this up. But until I can prove it to them, I just want to make an impact and make myself known to as many people as possible. If people root for me and really love watching me win, then they’ll tell their friends and more people will hear my political message.”

“I don’t think it matters if people believe your words. I heard the crowd cheering for you because you were so intense with your words. In my opinion, I could see and feel the intensity when you talk. That means something to me. That’s what brings in the ratings, and I bet the XWF is happy with you for being so passionate. So tell us about your upcoming match. You’re wrestling for some belt? One of those big championships belts, right?”

“Tony, I’m wrestling three other XWF athletes for the XWF Television Championship. These kinds of matches are crazy and intense. Whenever there are more than two guys in the ring, matches in the XWF get chaotic. There’s a lot to enjoy because the four of us are going to scrap and claw to try and win a championship. This is my first shot at a championship in XWF and I’m willing to put my body on the line to get a win.”

“That sounds interesting. All of my listeners know that I really hate the kick fighting stuff that’s popular right now. I don’t want to watch two guys throw kicks and walk in circles. You’re saying this is completely different?”

“Oh yeah, Tony. I’m sure you’d enjoy this. It’s absolute madness and chaos most the time, and I’d recommend giving XWF a shot this weekend. Wrestlers hold nothing back here. We aren’t afraid to risk our careers whether it be getting slammed on our necks or trying to break our opponent’s arms. I’m going to do what it takes to win the belt on something, and wrestlers here can’t circle the ring until time runs out. We don’t have judges calling the shots. It makes great action, and I’m happy to be a part of it.”

“Thank you so much, Thomas. This has been an interesting take on a sport that we don’t really cover and our listeners probably didn’t know much about us. Before you sign off, give us some plugs.”

“Thanks, Tony. You can watch Wednesday Night Warfare and Saturday Night Savage on regular TV, and Wild Card Weekend will be both Saturday and Sunday Night this weekend on Pay Per View. My match will be on the second night, but both shows look spectacular. Thanks you so much, Tony.”

Thomas hangs up the phone and takes a deep breath, satisfied with the interview. He knew the segment would be short, and he was able to get his point across perfectly. For a brief time, his reach expanded beyond XWF, and he spoke to normal people about the oppression of the lizard people.

]]>

]]> <![CDATA["Mr FN' Dominance"- Sitting Here.]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=25826 Fri, 09 Dec 2016 15:55:06 -0800 Mr Killjoy]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=25826

The scene opens in the Boardwalk Hall arena, once again. This time not in the convention hall where the epic confrontation between Trax and Commander Zion took place a few days ago, but the actual wrestling & boxing event area which has a seating capacity of over 14,000 seats which will all soon be filled for the sold out XWF event Wild Card Night 2. The wrestling ring has already been set up, as has the 16 foot tall, around 35 feet wide chain link structure known as the Elimination Chamber. The demonic structure hangs ominously above the ring basking the squared circle below it in its menacing shadow. Sitting at ringside in the front row is one of the men who will be stepping into that very structure in just a couple days time, Mr FN' Dominance himself, Trax. Trax sits unmoving, unblinking, staring up at the structure deep in thought.

Unlike some of the other participants in this match, Trax had been in an elimination chamber before, in his old company he used to wrestle in FCW, Trax had stepped into a structure exactly like the one he was know staring at alongside his best friend then arch rival Paul "Extreme Machine" Hunter and three other men in what was a blockbuster main event to decide who would win the at the time vacated FCW World Championship. Trax recalled how he suffered an almost career ending injury half way through the match, tearing his ACL muscle almost clean off, Trax however being the fighter that he is continued the match, before being the last man eliminated getting pinned by Paul Hunter which in turn saw Paul get crowned the three time FCW World Champion. Trax would take some time off to nurse his injuries, before returning to FCW to a standing ovation almost a year later, winning the belt off Paul Hunter, who had remained the undefeated champion all that time, in his first match back to become the FCW World Champion for the first time, Trax would go on to win the belt three times after that before he departed ways with FCW, although he came up short that night, many long time Trax fans would argue it was actually the chamber match he participated in in FCW which saw Trax rise to a main event level star in the wrestling industry, the level he would contain to stay at ever since. With that in mind then, although the match took years off Trax's career and hindered his mobility ever so slightly going forward, Trax couldn't help but be thankful for that night since it was indeed a career defining moment, despite not walking out with the title or on his own two feet for that matter, the resiliency and drive Trax displayed in that match put him on the map and was a career defining moment. It was fitting then, that Trax would be looking to have yet another career defining moment, arguably the biggest of his career, by winning the Universal Championship a second time, stepping into the confines of a chamber with five other men he had to outlast to accomplish that feat. Trax knew, or at least he was fairly certain, that MOST of the men in that chamber were looking to put it all on the line to accomplish their goals, validate their careers and fulfil their dreams... and ultimately achieve that CAREER DEFINING moment.

But only ONE of them was going to be able to do that.

Only ONE of them was going to be walking out that chamber the UNIVERSAL CHAMPION.

The other men? Well they would be left beaten and broken, mentally and physically, and may not even walk out the chamber at all.

And as Trax stared at the chamber, unwavered , undeterred, he was determined not to be one of those "other men"

He would be THE MAN.

Because he is Mr FN Dominance.

And that's just what the fuck he does.

Trax finally blinks breaking out of his statue like stasis and smirks, he rubs his chin stubble and bows his head as he begins to speak.

Waddup XWF Universe.

Waddup Chaos, Bourbon, Gilmour, Solider and Pig.

You already know who it is, its me Trax, aka Mr FN Dominance aka Mr next Universal Champion. Am I getting ahead of myself? Well, I have been doing a bit of time jumping lately haven't I? Heh, but no I don't think I am in all honestly it is what it is. But Peter digresses.I'm just sitting here, taking it all in, thinking about how mad the last couple of weeks have been for me but at the same time how exhilarating its been. I mean forget the Universe as you think you know it for one second, we're a part of some goddamn MULTIVERSE or some shit. I've been to the distant future in another timeline, now let me tell you all what's going to happen in the immediate future here in this timeline, I am going to accomplish that which I came back to do. That's it. Its that simple ladies and gentlemen, I came back to XWF after catching wind a title I had held and had valued dearly had been bastardized and was losing value week after week and now I'm just a couple of days away from making everything right in the world again. The dark skies that have been looming over XWF much like this chamber is currently looming over that ring are going to be lifted and its all because of yours truly, no need to thank me, its all in a days work for me. When I step inside that chamber and dominate, its just another day in the office.

Peter you can thank me for taking that title off your hands and relieving you of a position you're in no fit state to be in because that's exactly what's going to happen. I admire the fact you're able to stand in front of a camera and lie to everyone, including yourself, about how being the Universal Champion is your birth right, your destiny, how you're different from when we last met as if winning that championship has somehow improved your wrestling abilities over night, how you're walking out of this chamber with YOUR belt. All lies. I think if there's one thing everyone can agree on is there isn't a snowballs chance in Hell you're walking out with that title buddy, I'm sure you'll show us just how XTREME you are and get a couple of good spots in and the crowd will cheer for you as they do because you're likeable and the crowd WANT you to win but you'll end up letting them, yourself and your beloved Mia down once again as you have done oh so many times in your career when I'm proven right about what I've said about you all this week and last, you are an intern champion, a title warmer, they shouldn't of even gone through the effort of making a "Gilmour" nameplate for the belt, they should of just removed Scullys and left it blank until the result of this match, would of saved the guys backstage in charge of that sort of thing a lot of wasted time.

Again stop with the lies, you took me to my limit? Hardly. It was my first match back and I was rusty, I would say I was wrestling at 60% tops, now I'm 100% and you think you have a chance in Hell and standing toe to toe with me? For your sake you best hope you get eliminated before I even leave my pod and get a chance to confront you and show just how big of a gap in talent there is between us when I'm firing on all cylinders. You're not one step ahead, you're so far behind I'm giving my self a headache bashing my head off the dashboard when I break suddenly to go into reverse just to see where you're at. If you want the Universal title to have value you should of let me take your place in that Universal Championship match against Scully because as I've already said before there's not much difference credibility wise between you and him, you have both wallowed in mediocrity for the majority of your careers, NEITHER of you should of gotten anywhere near the Universal title. Scully is challenging for the Xtreme Championship and even that title is too good for him if you ask me and fucking LeStrange has held that belt, and when you lose Peter yes I will give you a rematch because I'm a fair man, but when I beat you once again don't come looking to get another crack at the Universal title ever again, not while I'm holding it, go chase after the TV title that's more you level, don't look up after you get knocked back down OK Peter? There's nothing for you up here and there never was.

Peter Gilmour has been Eliminated!

Robbie Bourbon, once again go fuck yourself, simply for the fact you have PROVEN to me that all you do you is say a bunch of nonsensical shit hoping and praying that is sticks, but when you get called out on it, you duck it and refuse to back up what you say. You say you have more credibility then me, that you're better then me? How? How when I have a list of accomplishments which outshine the list of accomplishments some people who have been here for twice the time of me have while you've been here the same time as me and have accomplished NOTHING. You're walking out of this match the Universal Champion? Why should anyone believe you when every single title match you've had so far in your career here you've walked out the loser, this is going to be the most challenging match you've had to date and we're expected to believe you're capable of winning the big one now? Why because you had to cheat in a match against me and Chaos to win? You think you're going to win because you've shown you're willing to use any trick in the book to come out with the victory now, newsflash Robbie, this is an elimination chamber match and anything goes, so if you think you're the only one going to be using crooked and underhanded tactics and will do anything to win you're more deluded then I previously thought. I will sink to depths lower then you have sank to recently to pull out the win in this because I'm expecting everyone else to do the same, if I have to injure and maim to make sure yours or anyone else's shoulder remain on the mat for a three count then that's fine by me, you all know what you've signed up for, so I won't be held accountable. Same way you have refused to be accountable for some of your shortcomings here, blaming me for you getting pinned in that tag team match against Feder and Lux Lyden for example, pathetic. Your entire time here you've amounted to nothing and in that chamber it won't be any different, you think you represent "The People" but The People don't want to be represented by an incompetent fat fuck Robbie Bourbon. So I'm going to do The People a favour, I'm going to hurt you, badly.I'm going to find out just how much pain bullet proof skin can withstand exactly, I'm going to take you out and make sure The People don't have to endure hearing one of your promos or seeing you stumble over your own pot belly in the middle of a XWF ring again for a very long time.

Robbie Bourbon has been Eliminated!

Beard Wa- you know what, fuck it.

Bearded War Pig has been Eliminated!

Unknown Solider if it wasn't for what you've accomplished here and the fact you have actually garnered a small measure of respect around here I'd be skipping over you too the same way I just have BWP. You have remained silent for two weeks now but unlike BWP I refuse to believe its due to lack of desire to win the championship, or fear, could it be that you're not bothered about this match and will purposely try and get eliminated early, simply so you can cash in afterwards and steal the Universal Championship from whoever wins? Spoiler, it'll be me. I mean I know that may seem like a farfetched theory to some people but its genuinely the only reason I can think of as to why you've been so quiet, that, or you really have overdosed on SATAN dust and are lying naked in a morgue somewhere. Whatever the case. I just want you to know that if you bring your A game to this match, I'll be ready for you, as I've said, you've accomplished a lot, but all of which you accomplished when yours truly wasn't here.Maybe I will get to see how you was able to accomplish the things you have, or maybe I won't, maybe it'll be the lax Solider whose been getting by by riding D'Villes coat tails lately. I bet deep down even HE doesn't have much faith in you to win this, I'm sure he knows whether he admits it or not, that I am the one most likely to be walking out with the strap, but that excites him of course, because I've already issued a challenge to him in advance for when I win. I know he wants to be Universal Champion again, he craves it, you in all honesty are a hindrance to him accomplishing that, instead of being in the title picture, he's reduced to wrestling tag teams with you and snotty little kids. I won't be surprised if he realizes just how much deadweight you are and drops you and the Tag Team Championships, but not before I drop you on your head first, buh bye now.

Unknown Solider has been Eliminated!

Chris Chaos. I have had to suffer hearing you flip flop and back peddle your words for two weeks now but despite the fact you at times apparently forget what you have said previously, or straight up have no idea what you are talking about there is no denying you are a talented guy. See I say what I mean and I never contradict myself, you are indeed extremely talented and after me and Unknown Solider when he actually tries you are indeed the most gifted man in this match without a doubt, you've proven that. You're right in less then three months you have found yourself in the title picture and that's great, that's something I can't take away from you, but what I can take away from you are your dreams and unfortunately for you that's what the case is going to be Sunday. You're asking people if they know what its like to be screwed over? Seriously? Dude this is WRESTLING, lets be honest its one of the most shadiest professions going, backstage politicking and fuckery has plagued professional wresting for years. I got screwed over multiple times in my old company FCW, I got stripped of championships for no fucking reason, been placed in bullshit stipulation matches just as you have. Shit, even here in XWF I've had multiple managers try and screw me over man, Frodo Smackins most recently, Shane

when that whole CCWF invasion was going on, it happens, to most of us. So the fact you sat there stamping your feet and having a strop because you've been screwed over in a profession where most people get screwed over at least once in their careers is fucking embarrassing, yes Chaos most if not ALL of us know what it feels like, but if you're expecting anyone to pull a violin out and show you sympathy you're in the wrong company man. I actually don't think Lane has anything personal against you just because you was the only person to defend your Wild card, but even if he has got a grudge against you for God knows what reason don't act like you're better then anyone in this match because you defended your card, at least, don't act like you're better then me. I opted in for shows just like you did so the fact I didn't defend my card isn't my issue, if Lane wanted to, he could of made me defend my card in another match that Warfare instead of dumping me, you, Reno, and Bourbon in a meaningless tag team match but he didn't. So whose at fault there? Me? Or Lane? I think you'll find me not defending my card is down to management booking, not down to me not being willing. Don't worry however, I'll more then make up for it by defending my Universal title at least once a month as expected. Your homie Bruce was right, you ARE getting ahead of yourself Chaos. Best take down that portrait of you wearing a replica belt down and save yourself further embarrassment and heartbreak, because I'm going to HATE to do it but I'm afraid I'm going to have to stamp on your heart some more when I stomp you out in the process of reclaiming what's mine.

Chris Chaos has been Eliminated!

And that's all I have left to say to any of you, I really do enjoy these little back and forth verbal barbs as must as the next guy but the time for talking is over and the time for the Age of Dominance to be upon XWF for a second time is drawing near. Everything you have said up until this point and afterwards has been for naught, everything you have planned and formulated to do in this match is futile. Peter Gilmour you're going to find out once again just who the more XTREME out of us two actually is. Chris I am going to show you that Chaos can indeed be controlled by me, I DOMINATE in chaotic environments. Bearded War Pig go fuck yourself. Robbie Bourbon in that Chamber you will find that The People can't save you nor will they want to as it will be ME they're cheering for as I whoop your gargantuan ass all over that structure, and Unknown Solider, wherever you are, pray to SATAN but much like The People with Robbie, Satan can't help you and even he'll turn away from his TV screen at certain points in this match. Say what you will, prepare how you must, but nothing will prepare any of you for what awaits in that chamber, because every single one of you is about to CROSS THE WRONG SIDE OF THE TRAX, and there is only ONE outcome when that happens.

Your winner and the NEW UNIVERSAL CHAMPION...Mr FN' DOMINANCE...TRAX!!!!

I win. Peace.

Fade]]>

Peter Gilmour has been Eliminated!

Robbie Bourbon has been Eliminated!

Beard Wa- you know what, fuck it.

Bearded War Pig has been Eliminated!

Unknown Solider has been Eliminated!

Chris Chaos has been Eliminated!

Your winner and the NEW UNIVERSAL CHAMPION...Mr FN' DOMINANCE...TRAX!!!!

I win. Peace.

Fade]]> <![CDATA[Quiet Riot]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=25825 Fri, 09 Dec 2016 12:29:24 -0800 Dolly Waters]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=25825

CUM ON FEEL DA NOI-OIZE, ALEXIS ROX CLOTHES FA’ BA-OIZE

SHE’S A LIAR, LIAR, LIAR

LIAR… LIAR… LIAR!!!

Un-fucking-believable. I mean, I-I-I can’t even…

Uggghhhh.

Let me take a sec just to process how absolutely pathetic every bit of this is...

So, Alexis Riot, several weeks ago cuts some blabber-filled, bleeding heart promo about how she's going on her retirement tour, a two match tour; because she can't hang anymore and she want's to be home with her snot-nosed child and husband who cheats on her.

"Aww, yay! Good for Alexis, she's a failure, she can't hang, she's best suited in the kitchen prepping meals and scraping butter off from her teeth for her troll-looking son's toast!"

"Let's give her a big ol' hand ladies and gents!"

CUM ON FEEL DA NOI-OIZE, ALEXIS ROX CLOTHES FA’ BA-OIZE

SHE’S A LIAR, LIAR, LIAR

LIAR… LIAR… LIAR!!!

Un-fucking-believable. I mean, I-I-I can’t even…

Uggghhhh.

Let me take a sec just to process how absolutely pathetic every bit of this is...

So she announces her last two matches, losing one of them to the brand-spanking-new,Thomas Nixon, and winning one against Stone Cold Steve Austin who was obviously too intoxicated to be performing in the first place. Then at the end of that sorry-assed excuse for a wrestling match with Stone Cold, Alexis decides to try hijacking the show, and like most attention-seeking do-nothings attempt to do, she tried making everything about her.

Like anyone in the world even gives the goodest goddamn about Alexis Riots' feelings and how "optimistic" she claimed to be about the XWF's "future"; of course she cited that I, myself, am that future but not mentioning that I've already accomplished more in two months than she ever dreamed of; see that entire charade was one bad joke. So funny in fact, that I thought I'd humor this sorry sack and come on out to the ring when she requested my presence, if anything I thought it could at least help the ratings after such an atrocious match.

Then, after claiming this entire display was a "passing of the torch", or her giving me the proverbial "nod" of sorts, as if she was somehow an XWF legend, Alexis made the worst mistake of entire career aside from ever filling out her initial XWF application to begin with. She decided to attack me... I mean I figured she was dumb, but I had no idea that she would prove herself foolish enough to find the gut to ever lay her hands on me in a provoking manner.

So I took the bump, I licked my wounds and moved on to bigger things, not in the least bit worried about Alexis' stupid little ego influenced attack, hell for all I knew she could have had a seizure and accidentally attacked me, I mean why else would she do something so stupid?

But soon after that, rather than remaining quiet, she removed all of my doubt by opening up her mouth and challenged me to a match for MY Hart Title at Wildcard Weekend...

Sigh...

And for whatever reason, Vinnie Lane found her to be acceptable enough of a challenger and booked the match. Whatever. Didn't matter. I knew at that exact moment what I was going to do, I knew that I was going to get the revenge that I wasn't even worried about yet, I knew that I was going to make an example of Alexis Riot in front of the entire world...

But the point of all of this that irritates me the most, it's not her attack, or her undeservingly asking me for a title match, or how bad her breath stinks, it's the fact that after all of the parading, and pandering, and whaling about like she's some sorta' dominate force who was going to put on the match of a life time and somehow defeat Dolly Waters at Wildcard... Alexis Riot is no where to be found.

She's ghost.

Over.

Finished.

She's fee-fi-fo-fum-fucked!

This idiot didn't even find it appropriate to build up our match in any way shape or form over the last two weeks. What gives, Alexis? Why did you even open your eyes to me to begin with if you were just going to run home scared to Chicago once we were booked? Were you maybe just trying to toot your horn, thinking that there would be no way in hell that Vinnie would book your undeserving ass in a match of such magnitude?

Maybe Unknown Soldier and you are slummed up in some meth den exchanging STD infested needles while Jarvis Cotton-bitch watches on, masturbating in the corner.

It's absolutely disgraceful. My match at Wildcard... the unique opportunity of challenging Dolly Waters could have been filled by a worthy opponent, and you stole that, while at the same time wasting everybody's time, and for that, Lexy, I am going to give you the beating of a lifetime. That is if you even show up there, which from the looks of things, there's a real possibility that you wont.

But let's say you do show up, let's say you vomit in the trash can backstage, work off the nerves and make your way out from underneath the XTron and march your way down to that ring. If that does happen, I am going to beat you to a bloody pulp, I am going to knock your disgusting cigarette stained teeth down your throat and I am going to ensure that you only escape one of two ways: in a stretcher, or in a body bag.

What you failed to realize through this entire process, Alexis, is that I am the most vicious, most ruthless, most scorn-filled champion there's ever been. It's nothing for me to literally feast upon your flesh like a man high on bath salts. I have never been pinned, I have never been made to submit, what in god's name made you believe that you were going to be the person to stop my reign of destruction? Oh because you're some tough, edgy punk rock cunt who colors her hair and gives herself some stupid cliche handle like Riot?

Yer' a Quiet Riot, aren't you now? And once I'm done with you at Wildcard, I'm going to make sure that you never make another sound, especially in the wrestling industry, again.

Everything you claimed was a lie, because you knew deep, deep down in your heart that I was going to be the end of Alexis Riot, and so it will be, Wildcard Weekend Day Two in Atlantic City will be the last time Alexis Riot laces up a pair of wrestling boots, it will be the last time that her stupid fucking music plays in an XWF arena, and it will be the LAST time that she ever steps foot in the ring again.

That's a promise.

So thank you, Alexis, thank you for fucking the fans out of an opportunity of seeing a real match for the Hart Title. Thank you for being a worthless waste of a career... and thank you for ending this silly little charade that is your existence before it went on any longer.

In the end, Alexis, if you're still breathing, do us all a favor and never show your stupid face around MY ring again.

Get it?

Got it?

Good.

Times up, Alexis, and unfortunately for you, you've done nothing but squander it. See you Sunday... bring yer' floaties bitch, it's gunna' be a bloodbath.
]]> <![CDATA[Unity and Vengeance - Part 2]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=25824 Fri, 09 Dec 2016 09:07:33 -0800 Thomas Nixon]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=25824 Scene III
Washington DC
October 16th, 1962

The scene opens to the Oval Office. John F. Kennedy sits at his desk, holding his head in his hands. Two of his close companions sit in front of the President, both with concerned expressions on their face. A fusion of anger and frustration fills the room. Lyndon B. Johnson and Robert McNamara both struggle to comprehend the severity of the situation that surrounds them. Kennedy breaks the silence.

“Dammit, dammit, DAMMIT!

“That was a guaranteed success. This should’ve gone without a hitch.

“Something went wrong.”

“Mr. President, there is no way that they possibly could have saw through our masterful planning. Somebody must have given something away.” Johnson chimes in.

“Mr. Vice President is correct, the information must have been leaked somehow!” Robert McNamara postulates this thought, knowing that their plain was clearly flawless.

“Who would leak critical information like that? Our political rivals wouldn’t even do that! This hurts our whole country!”

“Well, there is a group of people that don’t particularly like us…”

“No. They’ve been harmless. We put them in their place. They wouldn’t dare cross us.”

“I find it difficult to believe that any other group has a motive. Mr. President, it must have been the Lizard People. It must have been.”

Kennedy rose to his feet with a sigh. He turns his back to his colleagues and stares at the floor. Moments pass, as Kennedy weighs the possibility that the lizard folk caused this problem.

“They can’t be that stupid, can they? There’s no way that they can confidently launch a war against us. We’re the fucking United States Government.”

“They aren’t smart. They just want to hurt us and our cause. If they’re looking for a war, we can give them a fucking war. There’s so few of them, it would not a lot of resources to exterminate all of them.”

“Then the threat will be gone forever.” Johnson surmises.

“Then it’s settled. We aren’t going to let them get away with this bullshit. We’re going to be smart and calculated. We’re going to track them and kill them, until they are completely eradicated. We can’t let them cause problems like this ever again. Now we must turn our attention to the current problem. Cuba.”

With that concluding thought, the three men placed their deep seeded hate towards the lizard people in the back of their mind. The Cuban Missile Crisis was not their fault. The Bay of Pigs wasn’t a failure by poor design. These leaders of the free world found their scapegoat in order to protect their ego. They all knew their plan to start a revolution in Cuba would fail miserably, but they couldn’t accept that their plan was such a giant flop.

The lizard people had caused small problems in the past, so this was an easy excuse to get rid of them forever.

The scene fades away, as Johnson, Kennedy, and McNamara discuss the decisions they must make to protect their country from the Russia-Cuba relations.

Scene IV

Near the end of the summer of 1972, Robert McNamara and his family took a ferry to Martha’s Vineyard. This island off the south end of Massachusetts is fairly small in both size and population. During the summer months, the number of people inhabiting the island grows by tenfold, including the tourists that visit for only a short time.

On the ferry ride, Robert McNamara nearly met an unfortunate fate. An unidentified man charged Robert. Robert was violently attacked, and he was nearly thrown off of the ferry. Luckily, bystanders intervened and Robert tried his best to defend himself.

Although this man would easily be convicted in a court of law, McNamara mysteriously chose not to press charges. He did not wish to open a can of worms. With only a small amount of media attention, people could assume that the unnamed perpetrator was a radical; he was just a crazy, drunk man that got carried away.

McNamara’s tactical decision helped hide the conspiracy that briefly flickered in the public eye. This was not the first time nor the last time that the lizard war would attempt to hurt McNamara, or anybody from the JFK administration. This is one of the many moments that the lizards sought vengeance.

***

Vengeance is a special emotion. It isn’t one dimensional; it takes many different forms. I can get vengeance on one individual, like Robert McNamara.

On that September day, I tried to kill him. I was foolish enough to believe that if I killed him, I would sacrifice myself to bring attention to my cause, and if I failed I was sure he would press charges.

Boy, was that a flawed idea.

I came up with this plan in a time of frustration, a time of passion. It was pure lunacy to believe that if I harmed a person, that anyone would take me seriously when I would inevitably bring up the lizard people. I would probably escape charges for being deemed mentally unstable.

Luckily, McNamara didn’t press charges. He feared that somehow I would make a credible case that the lizards had been tormented for the decade leading up to our altercation. Even though that’s completely true, I doubt I would’ve been able to pull that off.

That’s a basic form of vengeance. Passionate revenge. This example was stupid, passionate revenge, but I’ll give myself credit. In the end, I gave McNamara what he deserved. I just needed a well thought up plan for passionate revenge.

I’m going head to head with three other men for the Television Championship on Sunday. Vengeance has its place in this match. I’m not getting revenge against Broken Hart, Barney Green, and Jakob Davis.

I don’t have a personal grudge with any of these men, and they don’t hold anything against me. With that being said, I’m still fueled by vengeance in this match.

My first pay per view appearance is all about avenging the people that raised me, the same people that lost their lives in conflicts over the past multiple decades.

Holding the title belt above my head will be the most validating moment of my career up to this point. With the title belt wrapped around my waist, people will look at me as a serious figure. They won’t laugh at and marginalize the problems of the lizard people. They will know that the oppression of the lizards is serious. Over 40 years of oppression will end, and this revolution will take place sooner than ever.

Not only will I be a champion in only a few days, I get to appear on the Tony Kornheiser Show and discuss this dilemma with normal people. I have the ability to plead my case to every day people. This is my first chance to reach outside of the XWF sphere and bring my cause to the greater world. More and more of these opportunities will come up, but only if I can maintain my place in XWF.

Right now, I have a lot of eyes on me. I’m a rising star that is climbing the ranks to a championship. If I fail here, my credibility may be shot. My cause can’t afford setbacks like that. That’s why this four way match is so crucial.

That’s also why the Trios Championship Match on Night 1 is so crucial. I have faith in Guppy Parsh, Jervis Cottonbelly, and Benito Angelo. I can only hope that they understand the importance of this match. These men all have their quirks, but that doesn’t mean they can’t take the belts off the undeserving champions. On the off chance they fail, we will have to reassess our strategies, but if they wrap their heads around the injustice of our world, they should come into this match with everything they got.

If PATROL can dominate Wild Card Weekend, we will certainly have XWF’s attention. We just need to get there. Passion and vengeance are going to drive me to win the Television Championship; I hope the other members of PATROL are thinking the same thing.
]]> Scene III
Washington DC
October 16th, 1962

The scene opens to the Oval Office. John F. Kennedy sits at his desk, holding his head in his hands. Two of his close companions sit in front of the President, both with concerned expressions on their face. A fusion of anger and frustration fills the room. Lyndon B. Johnson and Robert McNamara both struggle to comprehend the severity of the situation that surrounds them. Kennedy breaks the silence.

“Dammit, dammit, DAMMIT!

“That was a guaranteed success. This should’ve gone without a hitch.

“Something went wrong.”

“Mr. President, there is no way that they possibly could have saw through our masterful planning. Somebody must have given something away.” Johnson chimes in.

“Mr. Vice President is correct, the information must have been leaked somehow!” Robert McNamara postulates this thought, knowing that their plain was clearly flawless.

“Who would leak critical information like that? Our political rivals wouldn’t even do that! This hurts our whole country!”

“Well, there is a group of people that don’t particularly like us…”

“No. They’ve been harmless. We put them in their place. They wouldn’t dare cross us.”

“I find it difficult to believe that any other group has a motive. Mr. President, it must have been the Lizard People. It must have been.”

Kennedy rose to his feet with a sigh. He turns his back to his colleagues and stares at the floor. Moments pass, as Kennedy weighs the possibility that the lizard folk caused this problem.

“They can’t be that stupid, can they? There’s no way that they can confidently launch a war against us. We’re the fucking United States Government.”

“They aren’t smart. They just want to hurt us and our cause. If they’re looking for a war, we can give them a fucking war. There’s so few of them, it would not a lot of resources to exterminate all of them.”

“Then the threat will be gone forever.” Johnson surmises.

“Then it’s settled. We aren’t going to let them get away with this bullshit. We’re going to be smart and calculated. We’re going to track them and kill them, until they are completely eradicated. We can’t let them cause problems like this ever again. Now we must turn our attention to the current problem. Cuba.”

With that concluding thought, the three men placed their deep seeded hate towards the lizard people in the back of their mind. The Cuban Missile Crisis was not their fault. The Bay of Pigs wasn’t a failure by poor design. These leaders of the free world found their scapegoat in order to protect their ego. They all knew their plan to start a revolution in Cuba would fail miserably, but they couldn’t accept that their plan was such a giant flop.

The lizard people had caused small problems in the past, so this was an easy excuse to get rid of them forever.

The scene fades away, as Johnson, Kennedy, and McNamara discuss the decisions they must make to protect their country from the Russia-Cuba relations.

Scene IV

Near the end of the summer of 1972, Robert McNamara and his family took a ferry to Martha’s Vineyard. This island off the south end of Massachusetts is fairly small in both size and population. During the summer months, the number of people inhabiting the island grows by tenfold, including the tourists that visit for only a short time.

On the ferry ride, Robert McNamara nearly met an unfortunate fate. An unidentified man charged Robert. Robert was violently attacked, and he was nearly thrown off of the ferry. Luckily, bystanders intervened and Robert tried his best to defend himself.

Although this man would easily be convicted in a court of law, McNamara mysteriously chose not to press charges. He did not wish to open a can of worms. With only a small amount of media attention, people could assume that the unnamed perpetrator was a radical; he was just a crazy, drunk man that got carried away.

McNamara’s tactical decision helped hide the conspiracy that briefly flickered in the public eye. This was not the first time nor the last time that the lizard war would attempt to hurt McNamara, or anybody from the JFK administration. This is one of the many moments that the lizards sought vengeance.

***

Vengeance is a special emotion. It isn’t one dimensional; it takes many different forms. I can get vengeance on one individual, like Robert McNamara.

On that September day, I tried to kill him. I was foolish enough to believe that if I killed him, I would sacrifice myself to bring attention to my cause, and if I failed I was sure he would press charges.

Boy, was that a flawed idea.

I came up with this plan in a time of frustration, a time of passion. It was pure lunacy to believe that if I harmed a person, that anyone would take me seriously when I would inevitably bring up the lizard people. I would probably escape charges for being deemed mentally unstable.

Luckily, McNamara didn’t press charges. He feared that somehow I would make a credible case that the lizards had been tormented for the decade leading up to our altercation. Even though that’s completely true, I doubt I would’ve been able to pull that off.

That’s a basic form of vengeance. Passionate revenge. This example was stupid, passionate revenge, but I’ll give myself credit. In the end, I gave McNamara what he deserved. I just needed a well thought up plan for passionate revenge.

I’m going head to head with three other men for the Television Championship on Sunday. Vengeance has its place in this match. I’m not getting revenge against Broken Hart, Barney Green, and Jakob Davis.

I don’t have a personal grudge with any of these men, and they don’t hold anything against me. With that being said, I’m still fueled by vengeance in this match.

My first pay per view appearance is all about avenging the people that raised me, the same people that lost their lives in conflicts over the past multiple decades.

Holding the title belt above my head will be the most validating moment of my career up to this point. With the title belt wrapped around my waist, people will look at me as a serious figure. They won’t laugh at and marginalize the problems of the lizard people. They will know that the oppression of the lizards is serious. Over 40 years of oppression will end, and this revolution will take place sooner than ever.

Not only will I be a champion in only a few days, I get to appear on the Tony Kornheiser Show and discuss this dilemma with normal people. I have the ability to plead my case to every day people. This is my first chance to reach outside of the XWF sphere and bring my cause to the greater world. More and more of these opportunities will come up, but only if I can maintain my place in XWF.

Right now, I have a lot of eyes on me. I’m a rising star that is climbing the ranks to a championship. If I fail here, my credibility may be shot. My cause can’t afford setbacks like that. That’s why this four way match is so crucial.

That’s also why the Trios Championship Match on Night 1 is so crucial. I have faith in Guppy Parsh, Jervis Cottonbelly, and Benito Angelo. I can only hope that they understand the importance of this match. These men all have their quirks, but that doesn’t mean they can’t take the belts off the undeserving champions. On the off chance they fail, we will have to reassess our strategies, but if they wrap their heads around the injustice of our world, they should come into this match with everything they got.

If PATROL can dominate Wild Card Weekend, we will certainly have XWF’s attention. We just need to get there. Passion and vengeance are going to drive me to win the Television Championship; I hope the other members of PATROL are thinking the same thing.
]]> <![CDATA[The Battle.]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=25817 Thu, 08 Dec 2016 03:28:15 -0800 Mr Killjoy]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=25817 2057.

She wakes up.

Eve wakes up, floating in a chamber pod filled with some sort of substance that is unknown to her, naked save for a crop vest top and panties, and a mouth breather applied around her battered and bruised faced connected to an air supply unit. The liquid substance she finds herself floating in, coupled with the sedative drugs still in her system, distorts her vision of the outside area surrounding the chamber, but she can make out the faint shapes of several figures in the room where the chamber is situated. She begins to frantically beat on the glass with her bare hands and feet, her shouts and screams muffled from the respiration appliance around her face. She hears the sound of talking from outside the pod and then suddenly the substance begins to drain out the pod through ducts in the bottom, as this happens the device around her face automatically unlocks itself as she leans against the pod glass breathing heavily as the pod continues to get drained out. Eve's vision is still partially blurred but she can make out what appears to be several armoured men in the room which appears to be some sort of lab filled with all sorts of equipment and machinery. Without warning once the pod is fully drained the chamber pod glass slides open and Eve falls out of it landing flat on her face. She lays there motionless, until she feels cold armoured hands grip her arms and drag her carelessly across the floor. Eve fades in and out of consciousness as the men drag her off to God knows where, out of the laboratory, down a long empty hallway and through another set of doors into a dark room with nothing but a metal chair with shackles connected to the arm rests. The men place Eve into the chair and lock the shackles onto her arms, she grunts and struggles against her constraints buts it to no use. The two soldiers that forcefully escorted her into the room stand either side of her as bright lights come on illuminating the room and causing Eve to bow her head and close her eyes least she be blinded. The bright lights reveal a large glass window near the top of the wall ahead of Eve revealing another room overlooking the room she's in, where General Zion stands, surrounded by more armoured men, smiling. Zion leans forward and presses a button in front of him and a Speaker near the outside of the window comes to life as Zions words are projected through it.

Nice for you to finally join us, Eve is it? I do hope my rejuvenation chamber did you some good, my men, well some of them got carried away and roughed you up pretty badly I must admit.

Just like that it all comes flooding back and Eve feels a knot in her stomach. Zion had stormed her hideout with his men, she doesn't even remember exactly what followed after that but the bruises all over her body was a pretty good indication, but that was the last thing on Eve's mind right now. HOW did Zion find them, and where are her comrades?

As if almost reading her mind, Zion presses the speaker button once more leaning into the transmitter to answer Eve's inner-thoughts.

I know you're probably thinking just HOW you got into this situation, its simple really, the nanobots in Carlo's body didn't just act as suppressors to whatever abilities he may of had, but they were also tracker devices, Carlos may not of been there when I got there, lucky for him, but he was there long enough for me to be able to pinpoint just WHERE your little hideout was, unfortunately for you and your people.

Eve tilts her head up and screams.

WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO THEM ZION!?!

Zion just smiles and speaking into the transmitter once more.

I'm sorry to say that your little rebel comrades are all dearly departed Ms. Eve, even the children, a harsh necessity but a necessity nonetheless, and you will be joining them if you don't tell me what I want to know about this Carlos Johnson you plucked from another time line and sent to kill me. You understand why I can't allow him to live? I'm a leader, I have to set EXAMPLES. If I let a man who attempted to end my life go unpunished what sort of example would that be setting to my men? Now the nanobots in Carlos body aren't traceable when he's in a different timeline so you're going to tell me where I can find him, what timeline he comes from, and I'm going to find him, and I'm going to take his head and mount it on my wall.

Eve struggles against her shackles some more before yelling and spitting in Zions direction.

You're no leader, you're a MONSTER, and I'm not telling you anything!!!!

Zion just frowns before shaking his head before once again speaking into the speaker transmitter.

Unfortunate you feel that way, monster am I, let me show you just how monstrous I can be then.

Zion clicks his fingers and walks away from the window. As he does so the soldiers surrounding Eve withdraw shock batons from their holsters and in unison hit her in the stomach causing thousands of volts to ripple through her body, Eve screams in pain as her whole body contorts and shakes upon impact. Zion beckons for one of the soldiers in the room with him to come closer.

Yes sir.

I'll be in my office back at the tower, let me know when she has talked.

Zion walks away out a pair of metal double doors as the scene fades.

FEW HOURS LATER.

General Zion is in his office overlooking the city, the window which was smashed due to him throwing the Carlos from another timeline out of it has already been fixed. The doors to his office open and a solider enters, walking up towards Zion and whispering something inaudible in his ear. Zion nods and turns around.

Fetch Professor Clayton at once.

The solider nods and leaves the room, Zion resumes staring out his window. A couple minutes pass and the solider re-enters the room this time with a balding man in a lab coat.

Commander Zion, you've summoned me.

Yes, the suit, is it ready?

The Professor nervously bites his lip while scratching his head.

Its still in prototype stage, we have some further calibrations and...

Finalize them at once, I have use of it.

But...but sir...where do you plan on taking it?

Zion smiles, looking at the anxious professor with a look of pure sadistic glee.

Time Line #616, 2016.

2016

The scene opens at a XWF Wild Card Fan Access event which is being hosted in a convention hall at Boardwalk Hall, New Jersey, the arena that will be hosting the second night of XWFs blockbuster upcoming two part PPV event, and XWF fans and wrestlers alike are on the scene,some of the wrestlers interacting with the fans or taking interviews from numerous news sources and such. This is the spot where we find Mr FN' Dominance, Trax, talking to a bunch of ecstatic fans in "Mr FN' Dominance" shirts signing their XWF Wild Card program books, his face on the cover, alongside the likes of Peter Gilmour, Dolly Water, Doctor D'Ville and others. Trax breaks away from the swarm of admirers to make a phone call when XWF's very own interviewer, Steve Sayors, decides this is the opportune time to swoop in and shove a mic in Trax's face, Trax looks stunned at first, which quickly transitions into a look of annoyance as Trax pockets the phone before he makes the call and shoots down SS with a stare.

Go ahead Steve, make it quick though would you, busy man, as you can CLEARLY see.

Yes I can see that Trax! But never too busy for an interview with your good pal Sayors right? Now Trax, we are in the Boardwalk Hall arena, it is right here where you are set to step into an elimination chamber in just a few days time with the current Universal Champion Peter Gilmour and other participants Unknown Solider, Robbie Bourbon, Bearded War Pig and Chris Chaos, what are your thoughts going into this match and would you like to spare a couple of words about the men you'd be competing against for the Universal Championship?

How do I feel? Confident. Why wouldn't I? I mean out of everyone in this match I'm the one the most qualified to be Universal Champion. I have the accolades, the athletic acumen, the experience in big league matches such as this and the drive. I'm the guy that is most qualified to be the standard bearer of this company and that's a fact, everyone knows that shit, whether they admit it or not. Whether they like it or not and they don't have to like it but they sure as Hell will have to accept it because they won't have any other choice. I'm a born champion. A born star, I'm the guy fans want to see and I'm the one management, whether they dislike my attitude at times or not, knows has what it takes bring the Universal Championship back to the level it has to be again. I'm the guy in this match with the most credibility, the most star power, that's why I'm here talking to these fans and representing XWF and the other people in this match are not, our Universal Champion Peter Gilmour isn't even here, its me management got on the phone and asked to come down here today and that's all the evidence you need that they're aware I'm the rightful face of the company. Peter Gilmour knows he can never be that, he's holding the strap but he knows he can't do for the Universal Championship that which I can, do for the XWF that I can. Now I respect Gilmour, honestly I do, he may not be the most talented guy in the world but hey we can't be all be on my level, that's an unrealistic expectation. Gilmour has drive and heart though I give him that, he's been here for 6 years and the majority of those 6 years he has spent on his back, but he's never given up. Now he's made it to the top but despite it taking him 6 years to get there its only going to take three seconds to knock him back down, three seconds, that's all it takes. One Trap Silencer, that's all its gonna take for him to be knocked down on his back which is a position he should be used to by now and then three seconds later that's his fantasy dream over and the realization that he was just title placeholder will well and truly set in. I almost hate to do it to the kid, but hey in this industry we do what we got to do, but no worries, maybe in another 6 years Peter can make it to the top of the mountain once again, I'm sure he'll still be here, they just can't seem to get rid of him.

Yeah that's true, believe me they've tried! What about your other opponents?

Steve let me ask you a question, what the fuck is the deal with this Chris Chaos? I've never known a more contradictive flip flopping homie in my life, at first it was amusing but now its becoming a legit annoyance, that and the guy seems to have a hard on for metaphoric comparisons which is just weird. I mean first the guy compared me to a Hurricane, now I'm apparently some limp frail fish he's going to reel in and gut? Which one is it homie? Am I Hurricane or am I a Gafftopsail or whatever the fuck it was? The answer is neither, oh I may plan to leave destruction similar to that of a passing hurricane in that chamber but I'm not going anywhere, I am a static force of nature, I am here to stay, I'm not going to just blow over and vanish in the wind. I'm no little fish, I'm a shark, and these are my waters, you could never reel me in, you come across me in my domain, and I'm going to take you to ice cold depths no sane man would ever dare enter and tear you to shreds. And once again you contradict yourself, you say who I've beaten doesn't matter, who you've beaten doesn't matter, that the chamber is a clean slate. I'm almost inclined to agree, you're only as good as your last match as they say..but if records don't matter then why the fuck did you bring them up? It was YOU that brought up who you've beaten first, not me, it was YOU that asked ME about MY record and who I've beaten. So I ask again, if none of that matters why ask? Why spend almost an entire promo talking about it? You basically admitted you cut a promo talking about shit that doesn't matter, are you fucking stupid? Of course you are, that much has been made clear to me now.

And again, more talking about your bullshit win over The Doctor. I am well and truly glad you think you're at the level you was at when you faced him, really that's great, if you was any lesser beating you would be even easier then its already going to be so its great you have so much false confidence in yourself. But what you need to realise is this match is going to be more challenging then the match you had with him, you have two guys that are mentioned in the same name as Doc when people discuss the all time XWF greats in me and Unknown Solider plus a bunch of other guys. So if "I beat Doc" is truly you main argument about why you're the biggest threat in this match then Chris just quit while you're behind because I'm tired of hearing about it. You also spoke about Lane, let me tell you something about Vinnie Lane, when me and him faced off at Snow Job he spoke to me about "paying dues". I was still fairly new in the company even though at that point I had already accomplished a lot, and Lane told me I was one of those young cocky guys who had entered the company with a chip on his shoulder looking to leapfrog everybody and he was right, I was cocky and at that point in my career I had yet to be truly humbled, until he beat me that is, the first clean loss I suffered here. Leading up to that match I wanted everything, all the fame, all the glory but I had yet to truly pay my dues here. You Chris now find yourself in the position I found myself when I faced Vinnie Lane at Snow Job, you want the fame, the glory, you're looking to leapfrog the competition to take it, but haven't paid your dues yet, well in that chamber I'm going to collect that fee, I'm going to knock you back and show you that which I already know, you're not READY to be Universal Champion yet. That's not even me trying to insult you, this isn't me speaking to you as an opponent, this is me speaking to you as a man, its just the genuine truth. You WILL be a Universal Champion one day, you are talented, I have never not said that, unlike you I don't contradict myself every other sentence, but at Wild Card, in that chamber, its not going to be that day.

Strong words Trax, Robbie Bourbon has come out and aimed a couple of words throughout this week and last also, any comments on him?

Again, fuck Robbie Bourbon. I haven't got much to say to that guy, why? Because he still hasn't explained that shit he came out with, he still hasn't explained why he's more credible then me despite what we've both accomplished here in the same amount of time, and just like I said he CAN'T explain, he just says a bunch of shit he doesn't even believe in hoping that it sticks. Because he's a liar and that's what they do, the people are with you Bourbon? The people see straight through you buddy, they don't care about you, I've told you before, I may either get cheered or booed out of an arena any given night but a mixed reaction is better then no reaction and no reaction is exactly what you get from "The People" these days, funny how there's another wrestler in another company that refers to the fans as "The People" and he's a goofy patriotic charisma vacuum much like yourself Bourbon. Keep telling yourself you're better then me when the record and title history books say otherwise. I don't care anymore. And continue to mock the legitimacy of my recent endeavours outside XWF too, cheap effects? Yeah, as cheap as your last win on Warfare bitch.

Trax winks at the camera.

And finally, the other two men in the match, Beard War Pig and Unknow-

What about them? BWP is a non-factor, he has clearly took his ball and gone home as he should of. Maybe he realized who he was going to be stepping into the chamber with and realized he was way in over his head, so saying that he's possibly the smartest person other then myself that got booked into this match. Like I said however, he is a non-factor and he's been that way since the beginning, I mean seriously how am I supposed to take someone who teams with Ghost Tank of all people seriously? All muscles but no brains clearly. We already have a guy like that in this chamber in Robbie Bourbon so that quota has been filled, we don't need another guy like that, so good riddance to Pig I say if he has rode off into the sunset deciding to avoid major injury and disappointment.

As for Unknown Solider, I can't stress enough how much of a disappointment he's been, I have no doubt he'll show up, he may even cut a promo last minute as he does, but for how much of a factor he's going to be I'm not sure. I'll say it again, it should of been the Doctor in this match, he's the more impressive member in Doctor Satan and everybody knows it so why not? Why does he get relegated to fighting the Duke kid? Its a shame because I'd of LOVED for him to be in the chamber, in fact I wanna spare a couple of words to the good ol' Doc because in all honesty despite not even being in the match he's more worthy of my time than Unknown Solider is.

Trax turns away from Sayors and faces the camera.

Doc I've heard you talking sideways to me all week and I KNOW you're going to hear this. I agree with you that the Universal Championship is in dire straits right now, from Scully holding it to Peter now its current owner, to go from credible holders such as Lane, myself and yes even of course yourself is a huge drop but you best believe if there's anybody who can "fix" the damage that's been done to the Universal title its yours truly.I do agree with you however when you said Unknown Solider isn't capable of doing that, I wonder how he feels hearing you say that? If he's even heard you say that because nobody, not even you I fear, has any idea where the guy is, but it matters not, whether he shows up and brings his A game or not its not changing a thing, Doctor Satan will NOT be in possession of the Universal Championship after that chamber gets raised and the dust is cleared...that's a promise. However, he's what I have to say to you, I know there's only one guy currently wrestling on the roster on my level and that guy is you, fuck Chris Chaos we both know that was a fluke, it happens. I have also been beaten by men inferior to me, sometimes even the all time greats such as you and me get caught slipping...but we are still two of the all time greats and Trax vs Doc is a guaranteed classic that would be up there with the classic I had with Lane, so how about this...WHEN I win the Universal Championship, you and me, we face off, and we find out who the REAL King of XWF, King of the UNIVERSE, REALLY is...?

WOW...what a challenge, you hear that XWF Universe? If Trax wins the Universal Championship...

Trax shoots Sayors another glare.

Um...when...WHEN Trax wins the Universal Championship...Trax vs Doc for the title! Book it Lane!

Trax goes to say something else but as he does so the sound shouting and people running can be heard, Trax and SS both turn to the commotion to see a figure, clad head to toe in a suit of armour which likes something straight out of an Iron Man movie walking towards Trax, dragging a lifeless and battered half naked female body along the ground by the hair as he does so.

Hello Carlos, or do you prefer being called Trax?

Who the..

Interviews over... I'm outta here!

SS runs off as Trax looks at the female the armoured man is carrying, her face is facedown on the floor but Trax recognizes her fringe at first glance.

Wait...Eve!?

Indeed it is.

Then you must be..no...Zion?

Indeed I am.

Zion effortlessly throws Eves limp body and it goes sailing through the air, landing at Trax's feet.

Don't worry she's still alive. Barely. Not for much longer however and the same can be said for you. Took a lot of time and resources coming here and finding you, Eve's time anomaly manipulator got destroyed during her...apprehension shall we say... and it was the only one its kind, this suit however, the Zion Exo-Suit, has the same time and space warping capabilities as that little device she stole, as well as other benefits, allow me to demonstrate as such.

And with that, Zion flies directly at Trax with near super sonic speed, charging into him and sending the both of them crashing straight through a nearby wall. Trax rolls on the floor on the opposite side of the wall groaning as people all around him are running for safety, before he can properly recuperate however, Zion grabs him by his braids and spins him around with both hands before flinging him into the air, Trax soars upwards and crashes back first into the rafters before plummeting back down towards Zion, before he hits the floor however Zion hits him with an energy blast from the palm of his armoured hands which changes Trax's trajectory mid air and causes him to get sent flying back landing on a cardboard cut out of Vinnie Lane,knocking it over. Trax lays there on the cut out clutching his already damaged ribs and coughing as Zion nonchalantly walks towards him.

Like I said before, you was a fool, blindingly following orders, I traded with terrorists and guerrilla units on the insurance they wouldn't use the weapons provided on by me us, and they wouldn't of been able to, anything I provided was heavily monitored and had a fail safe accessible by me. I helped people wage war on others that is true, but America was safe and was no longer under threat, because of me. I am a Hero. I am a man that is willing to protect his country by any means necessary, protect its people by any means necessary, even if its from themselves. But some people...well some people simple cannot be saved can they, so its best they get removed from the picture, its truly a shame.

Zion grabs Trax by his throat with one hand and pulls back his other hand in a balled up fist ready to strike Trax who is coughing out blood, dazed.

You thought you could come to my world and kill me? I think not. It is because of your sheer idiocy, your sheer audacity, that I have come to your world to kill you "Trax". And then, well then, I'm going to finish off your little friend.

Zion pulls his arm back further preparing to land a killing blow to Trax who seems out of it, until Trax grinds his teeth and his eyes widen, glowing amber. Trax hits Zion with a dual energy blast from both hands that sends Zion flying off him and rolling on the floor a few meters away, Trax gets to his feet as his whole body begins to give off an amber glow now as Zion stumbles to his feet.

Impossible...the nanobots...they should still be active, you're body couldn't of flushed them out this quickly.

Sorry to say Zion, but I think you've underestimated ME.

Trax walks towards Zion who shoots an energy blast at him but Trax gets his shield up in time to deflect it, it rockets upwards through the roof and into the sky above. Zion lets off another but this time Trax teleports out the way and reappears right in front of Zion landing a haymaker to his helmet which sends him staggering back, Zion then extends his hands out looking to hit Trax with more energy blasts but Trax grabs both his hands by the wrists and pulls them apart getting in Zions face.

You thought YOU could come to MY world and kill ME? Then YOU are the fool Zion, nobody fucks with my world, my friends, or ME. Because you know who I am? I'm Carlos fucking Johnson but yes I prefer to be called Trax, or better yet, Mr FUCKING DOMINANCE MOTHERFUCKER.

Trax knees Zion in the chest and doubles him over before letting go of his wrists and hitting him with two dual energy blasts that sends Zion flying through the wall the two had crashed through moments ago yet again. Trax teleports to the other side of the wall to see Zion clutching his torso, sparks flying out of his armour. Zion looks at his right arm and tears off a piece of the armour revealing a series of buttons, he presses some of them and he immediately begins to glow bright blow.

Trax...Mr FN' Dominance...this isn't over.

Where are you going!?

Trax goes to grab Zion but he vanishes before he's able to get his hands on him. Trax curses but then immediately turns his attention to the still motionless body of Eve that's nearby, he teleports to her position and cradles her.

Stay with me...don't worry...I'm going to get you help.

Trax teleports the two of them away as the scene fades.

Few hours later.

Trax and Jackie are standing out a hospital room, Trax is pacing back and forth while Jackie stands there arms crossed looking rather inpatient herself. Finally a doctor exits the room and looks at the pair.

She's awake, you can see her now.

Trax and Jackie step into the room to see Eve on a hospital bed bandaged up looking worse for wear. Jackie clasps her hands over her mouth as Trax walks forward and Eve turns to the sound of his footsteps.

He did a real number on you huh kiddo.

Trax feigns a half smile but Eve turns away from him and stares at the ceiling above.

Carlos...he found us...he killed my comrades and took me to one of his facilities and kept there in stasis until I woke, then he tortured me until I told him what he wanted, it took a few hours, but eventually I broke and told them everything that I wanted to know. I'm sorry.

Trax shakes his head and places a hand comfortingly on her shoulders.

Don't be. I'm sorry to hear what happened to you and your people, truly. I've dealt with him for now, he got away but I don't think he'll be a problem for a while. He knows who he's dealing with, WHAT he's dealing with, my powers... they've come back, my ribs are healed thanks to them. I'm as good as new and ready to kick some ass, ready to kick some MORE ass, and I will be, my chamber match is only a few days away. But when he shows up again.

Eve nods, however her bottom lip begins to tremble as her eyes begin to well up.

That's great but...Trax...the time anomaly manipulator...its gone. I have no way of getting back home, I'm stranded here, in a time line I don't belong. No family, no friends, no place to live.

Nonsense.

Jackie speaks for the first time since her and Trax entered the room and Trax and Eve look at her confused.

Trax is your friend and anybody who is a friend of Trax is a friend of mine. You can stay with us.

Eve looks at Jackie with an eye brow raised then back at Trax as if waiting for him to confirm what Jackie has just said.

Yeah that's right. You can stay with us. We'll find a way to get you back to your timeline, if that's what you wish, or you can start a brand new life in this one, choice is yours really. Whatever you choose to do we'll help. And I promise you, if Zion shows his face again, I'll make him regret it.

Trax takes his hand off Eves shoulder, Jackie walks up behind him and wraps her arms around his and smiles at Eve, Eve smiles at the couple tears still running down her face.

Thank you, thank you so much.

Eve wipes away her tears as Trax and Jackie just nod and smile as the scene fades.

Elsewhere, New York, 2057.

Commander Zion is standing in a lab with the Professor named Clayton and a bunch of other men in lab coats along with Zion Troop Soldiers. The Zion Exo-Suit that Zion had worn to travel to Trax's time is on a metal table been looked over by some of the scientists as Zion and Clayton speak.

Well, what's the diagnostic Clayton.

Sir, the central core frame has been severally damaged, this was just a prototype and the resources that went into this suit were scarce to say the least, it could take weeks, possibly months to make it fully operational again and more durable then it was before.

Get it DONE Clayton, I need that suit working, with some extra touches included, because I swear on this God Given country... I will not rest until "Mr FN Dominance" dies.

To Be Continued?

]]> 2057.

She wakes up.

Eve wakes up, floating in a chamber pod filled with some sort of substance that is unknown to her, naked save for a crop vest top and panties, and a mouth breather applied around her battered and bruised faced connected to an air supply unit. The liquid substance she finds herself floating in, coupled with the sedative drugs still in her system, distorts her vision of the outside area surrounding the chamber, but she can make out the faint shapes of several figures in the room where the chamber is situated. She begins to frantically beat on the glass with her bare hands and feet, her shouts and screams muffled from the respiration appliance around her face. She hears the sound of talking from outside the pod and then suddenly the substance begins to drain out the pod through ducts in the bottom, as this happens the device around her face automatically unlocks itself as she leans against the pod glass breathing heavily as the pod continues to get drained out. Eve's vision is still partially blurred but she can make out what appears to be several armoured men in the room which appears to be some sort of lab filled with all sorts of equipment and machinery. Without warning once the pod is fully drained the chamber pod glass slides open and Eve falls out of it landing flat on her face. She lays there motionless, until she feels cold armoured hands grip her arms and drag her carelessly across the floor. Eve fades in and out of consciousness as the men drag her off to God knows where, out of the laboratory, down a long empty hallway and through another set of doors into a dark room with nothing but a metal chair with shackles connected to the arm rests. The men place Eve into the chair and lock the shackles onto her arms, she grunts and struggles against her constraints buts it to no use. The two soldiers that forcefully escorted her into the room stand either side of her as bright lights come on illuminating the room and causing Eve to bow her head and close her eyes least she be blinded. The bright lights reveal a large glass window near the top of the wall ahead of Eve revealing another room overlooking the room she's in, where General Zion stands, surrounded by more armoured men, smiling. Zion leans forward and presses a button in front of him and a Speaker near the outside of the window comes to life as Zions words are projected through it.

Nice for you to finally join us, Eve is it? I do hope my rejuvenation chamber did you some good, my men, well some of them got carried away and roughed you up pretty badly I must admit.

Just like that it all comes flooding back and Eve feels a knot in her stomach. Zion had stormed her hideout with his men, she doesn't even remember exactly what followed after that but the bruises all over her body was a pretty good indication, but that was the last thing on Eve's mind right now. HOW did Zion find them, and where are her comrades?

As if almost reading her mind, Zion presses the speaker button once more leaning into the transmitter to answer Eve's inner-thoughts.

I know you're probably thinking just HOW you got into this situation, its simple really, the nanobots in Carlo's body didn't just act as suppressors to whatever abilities he may of had, but they were also tracker devices, Carlos may not of been there when I got there, lucky for him, but he was there long enough for me to be able to pinpoint just WHERE your little hideout was, unfortunately for you and your people.

Eve tilts her head up and screams.

WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO THEM ZION!?!

Zion just smiles and speaking into the transmitter once more.

I'm sorry to say that your little rebel comrades are all dearly departed Ms. Eve, even the children, a harsh necessity but a necessity nonetheless, and you will be joining them if you don't tell me what I want to know about this Carlos Johnson you plucked from another time line and sent to kill me. You understand why I can't allow him to live? I'm a leader, I have to set EXAMPLES. If I let a man who attempted to end my life go unpunished what sort of example would that be setting to my men? Now the nanobots in Carlos body aren't traceable when he's in a different timeline so you're going to tell me where I can find him, what timeline he comes from, and I'm going to find him, and I'm going to take his head and mount it on my wall.

Eve struggles against her shackles some more before yelling and spitting in Zions direction.

You're no leader, you're a MONSTER, and I'm not telling you anything!!!!

Zion just frowns before shaking his head before once again speaking into the speaker transmitter.

Unfortunate you feel that way, monster am I, let me show you just how monstrous I can be then.

Zion clicks his fingers and walks away from the window. As he does so the soldiers surrounding Eve withdraw shock batons from their holsters and in unison hit her in the stomach causing thousands of volts to ripple through her body, Eve screams in pain as her whole body contorts and shakes upon impact. Zion beckons for one of the soldiers in the room with him to come closer.

Yes sir.

I'll be in my office back at the tower, let me know when she has talked.

Zion walks away out a pair of metal double doors as the scene fades.

FEW HOURS LATER.

General Zion is in his office overlooking the city, the window which was smashed due to him throwing the Carlos from another timeline out of it has already been fixed. The doors to his office open and a solider enters, walking up towards Zion and whispering something inaudible in his ear. Zion nods and turns around.

Fetch Professor Clayton at once.

The solider nods and leaves the room, Zion resumes staring out his window. A couple minutes pass and the solider re-enters the room this time with a balding man in a lab coat.

Commander Zion, you've summoned me.

Yes, the suit, is it ready?

The Professor nervously bites his lip while scratching his head.

Its still in prototype stage, we have some further calibrations and...

Finalize them at once, I have use of it.

But...but sir...where do you plan on taking it?

Zion smiles, looking at the anxious professor with a look of pure sadistic glee.

Time Line #616, 2016.

2016

The scene opens at a XWF Wild Card Fan Access event which is being hosted in a convention hall at Boardwalk Hall, New Jersey, the arena that will be hosting the second night of XWFs blockbuster upcoming two part PPV event, and XWF fans and wrestlers alike are on the scene,some of the wrestlers interacting with the fans or taking interviews from numerous news sources and such. This is the spot where we find Mr FN' Dominance, Trax, talking to a bunch of ecstatic fans in "Mr FN' Dominance" shirts signing their XWF Wild Card program books, his face on the cover, alongside the likes of Peter Gilmour, Dolly Water, Doctor D'Ville and others. Trax breaks away from the swarm of admirers to make a phone call when XWF's very own interviewer, Steve Sayors, decides this is the opportune time to swoop in and shove a mic in Trax's face, Trax looks stunned at first, which quickly transitions into a look of annoyance as Trax pockets the phone before he makes the call and shoots down SS with a stare.

Go ahead Steve, make it quick though would you, busy man, as you can CLEARLY see.

Yes I can see that Trax! But never too busy for an interview with your good pal Sayors right? Now Trax, we are in the Boardwalk Hall arena, it is right here where you are set to step into an elimination chamber in just a few days time with the current Universal Champion Peter Gilmour and other participants Unknown Solider, Robbie Bourbon, Bearded War Pig and Chris Chaos, what are your thoughts going into this match and would you like to spare a couple of words about the men you'd be competing against for the Universal Championship?

How do I feel? Confident. Why wouldn't I? I mean out of everyone in this match I'm the one the most qualified to be Universal Champion. I have the accolades, the athletic acumen, the experience in big league matches such as this and the drive. I'm the guy that is most qualified to be the standard bearer of this company and that's a fact, everyone knows that shit, whether they admit it or not. Whether they like it or not and they don't have to like it but they sure as Hell will have to accept it because they won't have any other choice. I'm a born champion. A born star, I'm the guy fans want to see and I'm the one management, whether they dislike my attitude at times or not, knows has what it takes bring the Universal Championship back to the level it has to be again. I'm the guy in this match with the most credibility, the most star power, that's why I'm here talking to these fans and representing XWF and the other people in this match are not, our Universal Champion Peter Gilmour isn't even here, its me management got on the phone and asked to come down here today and that's all the evidence you need that they're aware I'm the rightful face of the company. Peter Gilmour knows he can never be that, he's holding the strap but he knows he can't do for the Universal Championship that which I can, do for the XWF that I can. Now I respect Gilmour, honestly I do, he may not be the most talented guy in the world but hey we can't be all be on my level, that's an unrealistic expectation. Gilmour has drive and heart though I give him that, he's been here for 6 years and the majority of those 6 years he has spent on his back, but he's never given up. Now he's made it to the top but despite it taking him 6 years to get there its only going to take three seconds to knock him back down, three seconds, that's all it takes. One Trap Silencer, that's all its gonna take for him to be knocked down on his back which is a position he should be used to by now and then three seconds later that's his fantasy dream over and the realization that he was just title placeholder will well and truly set in. I almost hate to do it to the kid, but hey in this industry we do what we got to do, but no worries, maybe in another 6 years Peter can make it to the top of the mountain once again, I'm sure he'll still be here, they just can't seem to get rid of him.

Yeah that's true, believe me they've tried! What about your other opponents?

Steve let me ask you a question, what the fuck is the deal with this Chris Chaos? I've never known a more contradictive flip flopping homie in my life, at first it was amusing but now its becoming a legit annoyance, that and the guy seems to have a hard on for metaphoric comparisons which is just weird. I mean first the guy compared me to a Hurricane, now I'm apparently some limp frail fish he's going to reel in and gut? Which one is it homie? Am I Hurricane or am I a Gafftopsail or whatever the fuck it was? The answer is neither, oh I may plan to leave destruction similar to that of a passing hurricane in that chamber but I'm not going anywhere, I am a static force of nature, I am here to stay, I'm not going to just blow over and vanish in the wind. I'm no little fish, I'm a shark, and these are my waters, you could never reel me in, you come across me in my domain, and I'm going to take you to ice cold depths no sane man would ever dare enter and tear you to shreds. And once again you contradict yourself, you say who I've beaten doesn't matter, who you've beaten doesn't matter, that the chamber is a clean slate. I'm almost inclined to agree, you're only as good as your last match as they say..but if records don't matter then why the fuck did you bring them up? It was YOU that brought up who you've beaten first, not me, it was YOU that asked ME about MY record and who I've beaten. So I ask again, if none of that matters why ask? Why spend almost an entire promo talking about it? You basically admitted you cut a promo talking about shit that doesn't matter, are you fucking stupid? Of course you are, that much has been made clear to me now.

And again, more talking about your bullshit win over The Doctor. I am well and truly glad you think you're at the level you was at when you faced him, really that's great, if you was any lesser beating you would be even easier then its already going to be so its great you have so much false confidence in yourself. But what you need to realise is this match is going to be more challenging then the match you had with him, you have two guys that are mentioned in the same name as Doc when people discuss the all time XWF greats in me and Unknown Solider plus a bunch of other guys. So if "I beat Doc" is truly you main argument about why you're the biggest threat in this match then Chris just quit while you're behind because I'm tired of hearing about it. You also spoke about Lane, let me tell you something about Vinnie Lane, when me and him faced off at Snow Job he spoke to me about "paying dues". I was still fairly new in the company even though at that point I had already accomplished a lot, and Lane told me I was one of those young cocky guys who had entered the company with a chip on his shoulder looking to leapfrog everybody and he was right, I was cocky and at that point in my career I had yet to be truly humbled, until he beat me that is, the first clean loss I suffered here. Leading up to that match I wanted everything, all the fame, all the glory but I had yet to truly pay my dues here. You Chris now find yourself in the position I found myself when I faced Vinnie Lane at Snow Job, you want the fame, the glory, you're looking to leapfrog the competition to take it, but haven't paid your dues yet, well in that chamber I'm going to collect that fee, I'm going to knock you back and show you that which I already know, you're not READY to be Universal Champion yet. That's not even me trying to insult you, this isn't me speaking to you as an opponent, this is me speaking to you as a man, its just the genuine truth. You WILL be a Universal Champion one day, you are talented, I have never not said that, unlike you I don't contradict myself every other sentence, but at Wild Card, in that chamber, its not going to be that day.

Strong words Trax, Robbie Bourbon has come out and aimed a couple of words throughout this week and last also, any comments on him?

Again, fuck Robbie Bourbon. I haven't got much to say to that guy, why? Because he still hasn't explained that shit he came out with, he still hasn't explained why he's more credible then me despite what we've both accomplished here in the same amount of time, and just like I said he CAN'T explain, he just says a bunch of shit he doesn't even believe in hoping that it sticks. Because he's a liar and that's what they do, the people are with you Bourbon? The people see straight through you buddy, they don't care about you, I've told you before, I may either get cheered or booed out of an arena any given night but a mixed reaction is better then no reaction and no reaction is exactly what you get from "The People" these days, funny how there's another wrestler in another company that refers to the fans as "The People" and he's a goofy patriotic charisma vacuum much like yourself Bourbon. Keep telling yourself you're better then me when the record and title history books say otherwise. I don't care anymore. And continue to mock the legitimacy of my recent endeavours outside XWF too, cheap effects? Yeah, as cheap as your last win on Warfare bitch.

Trax winks at the camera.

And finally, the other two men in the match, Beard War Pig and Unknow-

What about them? BWP is a non-factor, he has clearly took his ball and gone home as he should of. Maybe he realized who he was going to be stepping into the chamber with and realized he was way in over his head, so saying that he's possibly the smartest person other then myself that got booked into this match. Like I said however, he is a non-factor and he's been that way since the beginning, I mean seriously how am I supposed to take someone who teams with Ghost Tank of all people seriously? All muscles but no brains clearly. We already have a guy like that in this chamber in Robbie Bourbon so that quota has been filled, we don't need another guy like that, so good riddance to Pig I say if he has rode off into the sunset deciding to avoid major injury and disappointment.

As for Unknown Solider, I can't stress enough how much of a disappointment he's been, I have no doubt he'll show up, he may even cut a promo last minute as he does, but for how much of a factor he's going to be I'm not sure. I'll say it again, it should of been the Doctor in this match, he's the more impressive member in Doctor Satan and everybody knows it so why not? Why does he get relegated to fighting the Duke kid? Its a shame because I'd of LOVED for him to be in the chamber, in fact I wanna spare a couple of words to the good ol' Doc because in all honesty despite not even being in the match he's more worthy of my time than Unknown Solider is.

Trax turns away from Sayors and faces the camera.

Doc I've heard you talking sideways to me all week and I KNOW you're going to hear this. I agree with you that the Universal Championship is in dire straits right now, from Scully holding it to Peter now its current owner, to go from credible holders such as Lane, myself and yes even of course yourself is a huge drop but you best believe if there's anybody who can "fix" the damage that's been done to the Universal title its yours truly.I do agree with you however when you said Unknown Solider isn't capable of doing that, I wonder how he feels hearing you say that? If he's even heard you say that because nobody, not even you I fear, has any idea where the guy is, but it matters not, whether he shows up and brings his A game or not its not changing a thing, Doctor Satan will NOT be in possession of the Universal Championship after that chamber gets raised and the dust is cleared...that's a promise. However, he's what I have to say to you, I know there's only one guy currently wrestling on the roster on my level and that guy is you, fuck Chris Chaos we both know that was a fluke, it happens. I have also been beaten by men inferior to me, sometimes even the all time greats such as you and me get caught slipping...but we are still two of the all time greats and Trax vs Doc is a guaranteed classic that would be up there with the classic I had with Lane, so how about this...WHEN I win the Universal Championship, you and me, we face off, and we find out who the REAL King of XWF, King of the UNIVERSE, REALLY is...?

WOW...what a challenge, you hear that XWF Universe? If Trax wins the Universal Championship...

Trax shoots Sayors another glare.

Um...when...WHEN Trax wins the Universal Championship...Trax vs Doc for the title! Book it Lane!

Trax goes to say something else but as he does so the sound shouting and people running can be heard, Trax and SS both turn to the commotion to see a figure, clad head to toe in a suit of armour which likes something straight out of an Iron Man movie walking towards Trax, dragging a lifeless and battered half naked female body along the ground by the hair as he does so.

Hello Carlos, or do you prefer being called Trax?

Who the..

Interviews over... I'm outta here!

SS runs off as Trax looks at the female the armoured man is carrying, her face is facedown on the floor but Trax recognizes her fringe at first glance.

Wait...Eve!?

Indeed it is.

Then you must be..no...Zion?

Indeed I am.

Zion effortlessly throws Eves limp body and it goes sailing through the air, landing at Trax's feet.

Don't worry she's still alive. Barely. Not for much longer however and the same can be said for you. Took a lot of time and resources coming here and finding you, Eve's time anomaly manipulator got destroyed during her...apprehension shall we say... and it was the only one its kind, this suit however, the Zion Exo-Suit, has the same time and space warping capabilities as that little device she stole, as well as other benefits, allow me to demonstrate as such.

And with that, Zion flies directly at Trax with near super sonic speed, charging into him and sending the both of them crashing straight through a nearby wall. Trax rolls on the floor on the opposite side of the wall groaning as people all around him are running for safety, before he can properly recuperate however, Zion grabs him by his braids and spins him around with both hands before flinging him into the air, Trax soars upwards and crashes back first into the rafters before plummeting back down towards Zion, before he hits the floor however Zion hits him with an energy blast from the palm of his armoured hands which changes Trax's trajectory mid air and causes him to get sent flying back landing on a cardboard cut out of Vinnie Lane,knocking it over. Trax lays there on the cut out clutching his already damaged ribs and coughing as Zion nonchalantly walks towards him.

Like I said before, you was a fool, blindingly following orders, I traded with terrorists and guerrilla units on the insurance they wouldn't use the weapons provided on by me us, and they wouldn't of been able to, anything I provided was heavily monitored and had a fail safe accessible by me. I helped people wage war on others that is true, but America was safe and was no longer under threat, because of me. I am a Hero. I am a man that is willing to protect his country by any means necessary, protect its people by any means necessary, even if its from themselves. But some people...well some people simple cannot be saved can they, so its best they get removed from the picture, its truly a shame.

Zion grabs Trax by his throat with one hand and pulls back his other hand in a balled up fist ready to strike Trax who is coughing out blood, dazed.

You thought you could come to my world and kill me? I think not. It is because of your sheer idiocy, your sheer audacity, that I have come to your world to kill you "Trax". And then, well then, I'm going to finish off your little friend.

Zion pulls his arm back further preparing to land a killing blow to Trax who seems out of it, until Trax grinds his teeth and his eyes widen, glowing amber. Trax hits Zion with a dual energy blast from both hands that sends Zion flying off him and rolling on the floor a few meters away, Trax gets to his feet as his whole body begins to give off an amber glow now as Zion stumbles to his feet.

Impossible...the nanobots...they should still be active, you're body couldn't of flushed them out this quickly.

Sorry to say Zion, but I think you've underestimated ME.

Trax walks towards Zion who shoots an energy blast at him but Trax gets his shield up in time to deflect it, it rockets upwards through the roof and into the sky above. Zion lets off another but this time Trax teleports out the way and reappears right in front of Zion landing a haymaker to his helmet which sends him staggering back, Zion then extends his hands out looking to hit Trax with more energy blasts but Trax grabs both his hands by the wrists and pulls them apart getting in Zions face.

You thought YOU could come to MY world and kill ME? Then YOU are the fool Zion, nobody fucks with my world, my friends, or ME. Because you know who I am? I'm Carlos fucking Johnson but yes I prefer to be called Trax, or better yet, Mr FUCKING DOMINANCE MOTHERFUCKER.

Trax knees Zion in the chest and doubles him over before letting go of his wrists and hitting him with two dual energy blasts that sends Zion flying through the wall the two had crashed through moments ago yet again. Trax teleports to the other side of the wall to see Zion clutching his torso, sparks flying out of his armour. Zion looks at his right arm and tears off a piece of the armour revealing a series of buttons, he presses some of them and he immediately begins to glow bright blow.

Trax...Mr FN' Dominance...this isn't over.

Where are you going!?

Trax goes to grab Zion but he vanishes before he's able to get his hands on him. Trax curses but then immediately turns his attention to the still motionless body of Eve that's nearby, he teleports to her position and cradles her.

Stay with me...don't worry...I'm going to get you help.

Trax teleports the two of them away as the scene fades.

Few hours later.

Trax and Jackie are standing out a hospital room, Trax is pacing back and forth while Jackie stands there arms crossed looking rather inpatient herself. Finally a doctor exits the room and looks at the pair.

She's awake, you can see her now.

Trax and Jackie step into the room to see Eve on a hospital bed bandaged up looking worse for wear. Jackie clasps her hands over her mouth as Trax walks forward and Eve turns to the sound of his footsteps.

He did a real number on you huh kiddo.

Trax feigns a half smile but Eve turns away from him and stares at the ceiling above.

Carlos...he found us...he killed my comrades and took me to one of his facilities and kept there in stasis until I woke, then he tortured me until I told him what he wanted, it took a few hours, but eventually I broke and told them everything that I wanted to know. I'm sorry.

Trax shakes his head and places a hand comfortingly on her shoulders.

Don't be. I'm sorry to hear what happened to you and your people, truly. I've dealt with him for now, he got away but I don't think he'll be a problem for a while. He knows who he's dealing with, WHAT he's dealing with, my powers... they've come back, my ribs are healed thanks to them. I'm as good as new and ready to kick some ass, ready to kick some MORE ass, and I will be, my chamber match is only a few days away. But when he shows up again.

Eve nods, however her bottom lip begins to tremble as her eyes begin to well up.

That's great but...Trax...the time anomaly manipulator...its gone. I have no way of getting back home, I'm stranded here, in a time line I don't belong. No family, no friends, no place to live.

Nonsense.

Jackie speaks for the first time since her and Trax entered the room and Trax and Eve look at her confused.

Trax is your friend and anybody who is a friend of Trax is a friend of mine. You can stay with us.

Eve looks at Jackie with an eye brow raised then back at Trax as if waiting for him to confirm what Jackie has just said.

Yeah that's right. You can stay with us. We'll find a way to get you back to your timeline, if that's what you wish, or you can start a brand new life in this one, choice is yours really. Whatever you choose to do we'll help. And I promise you, if Zion shows his face again, I'll make him regret it.

Trax takes his hand off Eves shoulder, Jackie walks up behind him and wraps her arms around his and smiles at Eve, Eve smiles at the couple tears still running down her face.

Thank you, thank you so much.

Eve wipes away her tears as Trax and Jackie just nod and smile as the scene fades.

Elsewhere, New York, 2057.

Commander Zion is standing in a lab with the Professor named Clayton and a bunch of other men in lab coats along with Zion Troop Soldiers. The Zion Exo-Suit that Zion had worn to travel to Trax's time is on a metal table been looked over by some of the scientists as Zion and Clayton speak.

Well, what's the diagnostic Clayton.

Sir, the central core frame has been severally damaged, this was just a prototype and the resources that went into this suit were scarce to say the least, it could take weeks, possibly months to make it fully operational again and more durable then it was before.

Get it DONE Clayton, I need that suit working, with some extra touches included, because I swear on this God Given country... I will not rest until "Mr FN Dominance" dies.

To Be Continued?

]]> <![CDATA[Dreams and Memories: Sights From The Elimination Chamber]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=25815 Thu, 08 Dec 2016 00:47:43 -0800 Chris Chaos]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=25815 DREAMS

[Image: otnHLoA.jpg]

It was over, finally. It was all over. The bell had rang, and the crowd was voicing their opinions—a mix of cheers and boos. The pain wracking my body was unimaginable. It was more pain than I had ever felt. I looked around, with blurred eyes, at the carnage around me. Broken glass where the pods once were. A body laying lifeless in the center of the ring. Blood, seemingly everywhere. It looked like a murder scene.

Then, I heard it. I hear Tig Ole’ Biddies voice. I heard the words than I at one point thought I would never hear. “THE WINNER OF THE ELIMINATION CHAMBER...AND NNNNEEEEEEEEWWWWWW XWF UNIVERSAL CHAMPION…….CHHHHHRRRIIIIISSSS CCCCCCCCHHHHAAAAOOOSS”

Suddenly, my world stopped. Did she say what I think she just said? The ref came over and took my wrist. I could barely get off my knees. In fact, I couldn’t. I couldn’t stand. My legs were jelly. He raised my hand to the sky. Confetti began to fall. Then, the best gift I have ever been given was put into my arms. It was shiny, gold, and weighed roughly 20 pounds. I looked at it through blurry eyes. It said GILMOUR. It was solid gold with a black leather strap. The Universal Title. It was mine. It was in my arms.

Finally. After all the year of waiting. All the years of getting screwed. This must be how a new father feels holding his child in the delivery room. Looking at it, I kissed it. It was cool against my lips. I cradled it close to me. Somewhere, I could hear my music playing. My ears were plugged with dried blood, so it was muffled, but I could hear it. Through my blurry eyes I could see Bruce and Jenny standing outside the cage, clapping. The ref helped me to my feet. Lightening bolts shot through them. I could feel the blood on my face. I could feel it internally. I was hurt, and I was hurt badly. But, I was champion.

Was this all just a big joke? Was this all just a segment for the public entertainment? When my quickly numbing foot hit the mat, then the second, and I saw the open ramp way ahead of me---it all became real.

I limped up the isle to meet Bruce and Jenny at the top. I held the belt. This was real. Surely if this wasn’t they would have stopped it by now. Someone would have cheap shotted me. That tends to be a trend around here. But with every pained step I took, the realer it became.

[Image: 4Hx7RqO.jpg]

This was real. I limped up the ramp and basically collapsed at the feet of Bruce and Jenny. They lifted me up with huge smiles. Jenny planted a kiss on my lips. Bruce patted my shoulders before holding my arms high. This was real.

The XWF was about to change forever. It was about to become a lot more chaotic. I had just competed in—and won—the match of the year. I was the best of the best. To be the man you have to beat the man. I just beat 5 of them. I put my hands up and roared as the Pay Per View went off the air…..

…….Chris was awoken by his doorbell. He groggily got out of bed. It was light out. He wasn’t under the covers. He must have laid down and dozed off. XWF TV was on. He must have been watched another boring Robbie Bourbon promo and fell asleep. Typical.

BZZZT!

His buzzer rang again. Who the hell was this?! Did they have a death wish?

Storming out to his front door, he opened it with perhaps more force than necessary. Standing there was the UPS man. He had a large square object balancing against one leg. “Mr. Jackson?”

“The one and only.”

“We have your order, sir. The portrait.”

Chris had forgotten all about that. The photo he had ordered was perhaps a bit premature. But hey, you have to take chances in life, right?

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Looking at the big portrait, he thought it was a hell of a job by Tampa Custom Ink. They did a bang up job of taking the Universal belt and slapping it on its rightful owner. He signed for the package and closed the door. Now, where to hang it. Where to hang it. He would have to wait for Jenny and Bruce to get back from the beach. She wasn’t having a good time if she wasn’t half naked. People probably thought he was her sugar daddy. He laughed at that idea.

Setting the picture up on an angle against the wall he went back and laid on his bed. He loved the beach, but he lived here. He could go to the beach whenever he wanted. When he was Universal Champ after this weekend, he was going to have the biggest party the beach has ever seen. But now, he needed to focus. He understood why Bruce and Jenny liked it. Bruce is front inland Tampa. And Jenny, she’s from Vegas. They have some badass pools but no beaches.

Bourbon’s promo was thankfully over and now XWF interviewer Steve Sayors was previewing some of the biggest matches coming up this weekend. This poor bastard, everyone shits on him. Maybe Chris would invite him to the Universal Title party. Maybe.

It wasn’t long before he drifted off again.

****
I couldn’t see who hit me anymore. My eye felt like Rocky’s in the movie’s closing scenes. Jeez, I hope it isn’t that bad. I am far too pretty for that. I used the ropes to try to pull myself to my feet. Whoever it was—their face was blurred for some reason—was back at it again. I felt the fists rain down and out of instinct I fired mine. Then, as though I was flying, I felt myself sprung across the ring. I crashed hard and heard glass shatter. All I could feel was pain. Whoever did I was roaring in the middle of the ring. There was blood in my eyes. I could see them throw their arms up. My body was being dragged to the middle of the ring. There was blood, I knew it was mine.

I felt his body press down on mine. I felt my leg lift.

1!

The hand hit the mat. The crowd chanted along with the count.

2!

Something in me was still fighting. My body had quit but my mind hadn’t. It is mind over matter when in these situations.

I felt the wind of the ref’s hand coming down past my head and somewhere deep down in the inner reaches of my soul, I surged forward.

Kick out.

The person on top of me could not believe it. They lifted my leg again.

1!

2!

I surged forward.

Then it began to whirlwind around me. It felt like I was wearing beer goggles. All I could see---not even sure how much later in time this was---a body coming at me. I ducked the advance and lifted them onto my shoulders.

Suddenly the whirlwind effect stopped. Everything was clear. I could see the fans through the cage. Some standing, some sitting. A lot of signs. Some were flicking me off. Some were yelling to finish it! I blew a kiss to the crowd and I performed the Equalizer. Falling on top of the lifeless form on top of me

1!

The fans chanted to this count as well.

2!

I felt the hand of the ref blow past me again.

3!

Then it all went black.

I didn’t come to until my hand was being raised and Tig Ole’ was signing into the microphone.

I had done it. A lifelong dream that always seemed to avoid me. A dream that had become reality. A dream that was so real, I could swear it was a dream.

Chris Chaos, the Universal Champion.

Chris woke back up again when he heard Jenny and Bruce enter the condo.

Sliding out of bed and walking out to greet them, they were looking at the big portrait.

“I see you guys are admiring greatness” he said with a smirk.

“Aren’t you counting your chickens a bit before they hatch?” Bruce asked.

“I love it!” Jenny said.

He knew he kept her around for more than just brass knuckles and vagina.

“No, Bruce. No I don’t. That is an image you are going to get used to seeing pretty soon. That is an image that will kick off and end every show in this company from now on. All the air time, it’s mine. I will be Uni champ and I plan to defend it. None of this Scully match every two months shit.”

Bruce shook his head with a grin. “Come on Jenny….help me find the right spot to hang this.”

MEMORIES

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October 2015

Chris stood in the ring with bodies all around him. It was complete carnage. He held the Freestyle Title (equivalent to the Intercontinental Title) high over his head. This was his third reign. He was only in this match because Slaine Rodderick screwed him out of a World Title shot. He grabbed a mic from the time keeper and yelled into it.

“SLAINE!!!! SLAINE! GET OUT HERE! We have something to discuss!”

But Slaine never came. Chris called him three more times before his face came on the screen. He was in the parking garage with World Champ William Bateman. Bateman was getting into a limo. Slaine had a grin on his face.

“I like you just where you are, Chris. And I think I will stay here. You had your shot, and you blew it. William is the champion now. And you remember the clause. As long as William is champ...you never will be. Now…..enjoy being the second best champion here and shut your mouth or I will make sure your Freestyle reign is shorter than summertime in Alaska. Got it?”

Chris huffed in the ring as the PW General Manager got into the limo and it pulled off screen.

Rewind:

August 2015

Chris hit the Equalizer on Bateman. This was it, he was FINALLY going to be Phoenix Wrestling World Champion. Chris went for the pin, but the ref was distracted. It was Slaine. He was upset because Chris had trashed his office the week before and had cost William the title against Aurora. He was on the apron, telling the ref something. He was whispering in his ear. As Chris was getting ready to grab the ref and show him the downed Bateman he felt a hand on his shoulder. Whipping around it was Orlando Holmes, Slaine’s henchman. He had the world title in his hand. He tried to hit Chris, but Chris ducked and grabbed the title from Holmes, leveling him with it. Slaine pointed, and the ref turned. He saw both men down in the ring and the belt in Chris’s hand. Immediately he signaled for the bell. Chris was disqualified. Slaine rolled William out of the ring as Chris freaked out on the ref.

“As a result of a disqualification, the winner of this match, and STILL PW WORLD HEAVYWEIGHT CHAMPION…...WILLIAM BATEMAN!”

Chris rolled out of the ring and chased Slaine up the ramp. Slaine made it to the titan tron before at least a dozen security guards came out and blocked the ramp way. Chris plowed through a few but was held back and restrained. Slaine laughed and waved, before telling the guards to remove Chris from the building.

“That was your ONE shot, Chris! And you knew the deal! Win, or your never going to sniff this belt again! I am sick of your shit. You didn’t get the job done. Now, leave my building before I fire your ass!”

Chris kicked and reached, swearing and spitting at Bateman as the 12 security guards it took to drag him dragged him by the PW General Manager as PW went to commercial.

Rewind:

July 2015

Aurora hit the Widow’s Peak on Bateman! She was going to retain the belt! Slaine had his hands on his head in his office, watching intently. Suddenly, Orlando Holmes came through the crowd. He tripped Aurora as she went for her finisher. The crowd booed. The ref didn’t see it as he was attending to Bateman in the ring.

Aurora bent over the rope to try and grab Orlando by the head. This was just enough time for Bateman, half conscious, to grab her between the legs and roll her up in a small package pin. The ref got to a 2 count. Suddenly, as if out of nowhere, Chris broke it up. He must have come through the crowd! Hitting the Equalizer on Bateman he immediately locked the sharpshooter in on Aurora! She grimaced as he sat down into it. He had a microphone in his hand. “SLAINE! Slaine! This is your heavyweight champion Slaine! I can break every vertebrate in her spine Slaine! I have no issues with that! Give me the world title shot I deserve!” He wrenched harder, and Aurora yelled and tapped furiously.

“SLAINE! I can do this all day!”

Sitting deeper Aurora screamed and tapped harder. Security ran out from the back. Slaine was ordering them. Chris fought them all off. Once all the guards were laid out, he re-locked in the sharpshooter. “Give me my match! I swear to god I’ll end her career!”

Slaine saw the pained look in her face. She mouthed “please!” to him as he was now at ringside.

“Fine! Fine!” He said, “You will have the winner of the Batemen Aurora match at Under The City Lights! But for god sakes let her go you lunatic, or I swear to god I’ll fire you right now!”

“I want it in writing!” He wrenched harder. Aurora passed out.

Bateman was back up now, and slid into the ring. Chris broke the hold and pointed at Slaine as he retreated through the crowd. He said “1 week” and held a finger up.

Chris would get what he wanted. Slaine and Bateman screwed Aurora at UTCL, setting up their match at Wednesday Night War next month.

Rewind:

January 2015

Chris was in a match where he had a chance for a World Title Shot if he beat Orlando Holmes. Chris dominated the match from the onset. He had Orlando up for the Equalizer when Slaine came out onto the ramp. “Oh, by the way, Chris. I forgot to tell you---this match, is no disqualification.” He laughed as Chris turned—Orlando still on his shoulders—and walked right into a spear from William Bateman! Jones fell out of the sky and on top of Chris.

1

2

3!

Orlando Holmes just beat Chris Chaos!

Slaine, Orlando and William stood on the ramp entrance with their arms all raised and joined together. They had just formed and alliance--at Chris’s expense—that would rule Phoenix Wrestling for the better part of a year and a half.

Rewind:

December 2014

Chris had just beat Jinx. It was Jinx’s first loss in over a year. As he looked as his broken body laying in the remains of a table, he saw the titan tron screen light up. Slaine was on the screen, clapping slowly. “Very, very good Chris. But….that wasn’t the match you had to win to be entered into the World Title Six Pack Challenge at the Pay Per View. Oh no. That match, well, begins right now.” Chris threw his arms up, mouthing, “what the fuck?” He turned around and General David “Bones” McCoy was in the ring. He blasted Chris with a chair, laying him out. “Referee! We need a referee!” Slaine said, laughing. A ref slid into the ring and counted to three. Chris got screwed. His quest for the world title thwarted again!

Rewind:

October 2014

It was a 4 corners match at the Gold Standard Pay Per View. Chris, one half of the tag team champs, was in a match with Aurora (the current world champ), “Fabulous” Fabien Rodgers (the current Freestyle Champ), and “The Icon” Scott Halmrast (current Armored Core Champion). The stip was, if Chris got pinned, whoever pinned him would be the other half of the tag champs with his partner Tyler Mayhem. Whoever pinned who became that champion, as well as their own, and the match was elimination style.

The match came down to the end. It was just him and Aurora left. She was now the World Champ and Freestyle Champ. Chris was still his half of tag champ and the Armored Core Champ (equivalent to TV title). Chris had just hit an impaler DDT and was crawling over for the cover. Just then, Mayhem’s music hit. He ran to the ring and punched the ref. He pulled Chris off Aurora and when Chris got in his face asking “what the fuck, man?” Mayhem grinned before kicking Chris in the gut and hitting his finisher “Wicked” (the pedigree), before grabbing Aurora, who was just coming to, and putting her on top of Chris. The ref was coming to as well and Mayhem rolled out of the ring.

Jackson Brooke: NO! Don’t tell me it is going to end like this! Chris had the title won! He had the title won damnit! And Mayhem turned his back on his long time partner! What the hell is this!

1

2

3

Chris kicked out, but was too late. Mayhem was back in the ring. The two proceeded to punch, stomp and beat on Chris. Aurora got a chair and put his neck in it. Mayhem stomped on it. Chris spit up blood. Aurora handed Mayhem the tag belt she won from chris AND the Freestyle Title. She kept the World and the Armored Core. She bent down and held the World Title right in his face. “YOU ARE NEVER GETTING THIS! DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME! NEVER!” She kicked him in the ribs to add insult to injury as the two held their arms over their heads, titles in hand. As they put their arms down, they embraced and kissed! Mayhem grabbed her ass as they left the ring, hand in hand, titles over their shoulders. Gold Standard went off the air with medics checking on Chaos as his former best friend and partner walked off with his biggest rival, hand in hand.

REWIND:

Chris was a dominant force in Phoenix Wrestling for quite some time. So dominant in fact, that an entire title belt was created just to attempt to control him. The Armored Core Title, PW’s version of the hardcore title, was made FOR HIM. He wanted a title. He walked in the door and targeted the World Champ. To save his ass, Slaine Roderick created a belt for Chris in an attempt to calm him down. To have him settle.

But what he didn’t know what that Chris Chaos does not settle. He took out roster member after roster member. Slaine put a 24/7 stip on the belt, meaning it could be defended anytime anywhere. Even that didn’t work. Chris held the title for 8 months before he got bored.

His eyes were set on the World Title….but it was again taken from him and he was awarded a Freestyle Title match. He won that also. He held that belt for a year. He was a tag champ. He was one of the top forces in the company but he was always screwed by Slaine when it came to the world title. Chris never got an opportunity to win it. He only got ONE match 1 on 1 with the World Champ and his only other match his best friend and partner turned his back and joined up with her.

PW Accomplishments:

First Ever Armored Core Champion and Armored Core Champion 3x
Freestyle Champion 3x
Tag Team Champion 5x

Under The City Lights MVP 2x

SuperStar of the Month 10 x

World Heavyweight Champion 0

Goose Egg.

Nada.

Zip.

Nil.

Zilch.

……...He didn’t control his own destiny. He would leave PW having a decorated record but having never “won the big one” but not by his doing.

……..On Sunday, December 11th 2016, that all changes.

_=__=_=__=

“Do you know what it is like to be as good as you possibly can be and always get screwed out of what you deserve? Do you know how it feels to be the best you can possibly be, but have it be all for nothing? From the moment I walked into that company I wanted the World Title. Maybe I was off base, maybe I wasn’t ready. But by the end of my tenure, I was at the top of my game. Do any of you know how it feels to be told your only option is to be second best? Especially when you know you can beat the best? Look at Dan Marino, former Quarterback of the Miami Dolphins. Marino is arguably the best quarterback never to win a Super Bowl. He just didn’t have a team around him. If it wasn’t offensive line, it was defense. If it wasn’t defense it was receivers. That is what happens when you rely on someone else. Marino would go out there and shred it every week, but in the long run he never got to sniff a title. That is what happened to me. I was reliant upon a tyrannical general manager who had it in for me because I didn’t conform to his system….

….you can’t conform chaos.

But I had that title won 4 times! 4 TIMES! And every time I had my heart ripped out. Every time it happened it hurt just as badly as the first. It took me 3 years to get into the world title picture in PW. 3 YEARS! I did it here in 3 months. I came in from day 1, knowing that I was worthy, and I called out the champion. Now, finally, my destiny is my own. However….Vinnie Lane showed some signs of Slaine Rodderick for a few moments. He put a stipulation on me that nobody else had. Then, right before my big break, tried to undercut me with a rising star that might just have been as bat shit crazy as I am. But I persevered. I survived. I took his little plan and I crumbled it into a ball and shoved it up his pretty boy ass! Now, I go into the chamber with 5 other men. No Vinnie, no Reno, no Doc…...nobody who may have it in for me other than the 5 other men I face. My time to shine is now, and you think I am going to let it go? I have been jerked around far too often by far too many. Now, it is MY time finally.

Does anyone know what it feels like? Does anyone in this match know what it is like to have your heart ripped out and stomped on? Over and over and over and over and over and over again?! DO THEY?! Well they will know come Sunday. They will know why a desperate man acts the way he does. My career will be complete with a win in the chamber. I have done everything else. BUT—does that mean I am going to quit? Hell no! Like I said I will defend this title with feverish intensity because I know I can lose it just as easily as I will win it—and then all of this effort, this pain, these demons, they will all be for nothing. I also know that me winning will not be popular in the locker room. Oh well. Just because it took me 3 months to be in a position that some guys have worked years for just shows how good I am right now. But I was in their shoes. I was there once. It took me years to even get in the picture in my other company. However, them, unlike me, will not be screwed. There will be no plan, no scheme, no conniving. They will simply be hit by a freight train whose brakes have been cut. They will be hit with a force they have never felt before. When that bell rings and when my hand is raised---nobody will feel they were screwed. They will simply feel that they were beaten by the better man. Because they will be.

……..I call my finisher the equalizer because I bring them all to the same level. I bring them all down a peg. I pile the bodies on top of one another. I give them something they can all have in common. I make them equal. They all lose to me……

This Sunday will be no different. I WILL walk into that chamber and I WILL come out victorious. Why? Because I can.

Prepare, XWF, prepare for the storm. Prepare to be equalized.

Prepare for a New Universal Champion…..

My time has come. My time time is now.

SIGHTS FROM THE ELIMINATION CHAMBER

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XWF RECORD: 12-3-2]]> DREAMS

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XWF RECORD: 12-3-2]]> <![CDATA[Open Up This Pit]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=25816 Wed, 07 Dec 2016 23:55:53 -0800 Brandon Moore]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=25816 The doors are open. Kids and adults alike are piling in. They aren't pushing and shoving their way into the Boardwalk Hall, however. It's time to rage at the 1787 Collective. It is the night before the XWF's Wild Card Weekend kicks off in Las Vegas. That means it is two nights before the Boardwalk Hall in Atlantic City is invaded by the federation for the second night of the Wild Card Weekend. The line is thinning and the final patrons are making their way into the Collective. The smaller venue is housing a sold out show with some of the hottest local metal and hardcore acts. Included in the final wave of entrants is none other than Brandon Moore. He abruptly ended an interview to make sure he made the show in time, still wearing his Job for a Cowboy shirt and his beanie. Brandon reaches the front door of the venue and reaches in his pocket.

-Venue Worker-
“Ticket?”

Brandon pulls out a piece of computer printer paper, one side filled with ink. He printed off his ticket at the hotel in the morning and kept it with him all day long. The venue worker uses his handy little machine to scan the barcode on the ticket. A successful “BING!” follows and the ticket is handed back to the XWF superstar. Brandon doesn't drink, but he next pulls his wallet from his pocket to flash his ID to the next venue worker.

-Venue Worker-
“Drinking tonight?”

-Brandon Moore-
“Nah, I just don't want you to mark my hands to shit. The marker probably smells like fuck knows what.”

Brandon was right, as he could smell it on all the minors that are attending the show. The second venue worker near the entrance of the 1787 Collective places a blue wristband on Brandon's right wrist. The worker nods and Brandon heads into the show, ready to throw down.

-Venue Worker-
“Enjoy the show.”

Brandon does what he always does the minute he walks into a show. He heads straight for the merchandise tables to see if there is anything good he'd like to come back for. He'd rather not buy something now and carry it around the whole show. Especially if he's going to be slamming and moshing. Four bands from the surrounding area in New Jersey all have their buddies and girlfriends running their merch stands. He sees a few good shirts that he'd might like to snag before the night is over. As his stands with his arms folded, surveying the different merchandise available, a few young men are busy surveying him. They approach Brandon and just about scare the shit out of him.

-Concert Goer-
“You're fucking Brandon Moore, right?!”

He taps Brandon the shoulder and Brandon comes close to send a fist upside the kids head.

-Brandon Moore-
“Jesus fuck! Who the fuck are youse guys?”

-Concert Goer 2-
“We're huge wrestling fans! We like wrestling and going to shows just like you! Isn't this awesome?!”

-Concert Goer 3-
“You're debuting for XWF in town this weekend, aren't you? We are totally going to be there!”

-Brandon Moore-
“Whoopdy fucking do. I'm just trying to enjoy a show and throw the fuck down.”

-Concert Goer 2-
“You're great in the ring! I can't believe you're in front of me right now. This is insane!”

-Brandon Moore-
“Yeah, okay...um...fuck off, thanks.”

Brandon gives a curious look and walks away, leaving the second of the bunch totally hanging. No high fives for him today. The kids look dumbfounded, thinking they'd get an autograph or easy entrance in the Wild Card Weekend event. Think again, little shits. Brandon Moore doesn't give a flying fuck about you. He's had enough of the little pukes at the show and is ready to get his slam on. Lucky enough for Brandon, the show is about to begin. The first band finished the sound check before the doors opened and they're ready to roll right on time. That's a surprise.

-Frontman-
“Let's fucking go! We're Homegrown, from right here in Atlantic City, baby! Get the fuck to the front! Fill this place in and kill somebody!”

The band starts to thrash their instruments and the frontman starts screaming unintelligible and brutal vocals. Brandon gets a devilish smirk on his face as the group of concert goers just stand there and nod their heads along to the music. The place is packed for the opening band and everyone is standing still? Fuck that. Brandon takes a deep breath and knows exactly what he's going to do next...

FUCKING RAGE!

He charges forward and shoves as many people as he can.

-Brandon Moore-
“Fucking move!”

A solid handful of other concert goers get the hint and join in on the havoc. The caveman shoving contest has begun! Brandon hates just about everything and can be a total dick at times, but he lives for this shit. Wrestling and metal are everything to him. For the rarest of rare moments, Brandon feels at peace. He's at home. To others, though, it's a shame it only happens when he's doing some sort of bodily harm to the human race. He's got some anger problems and this solves it. This goes on and on throughout the show. The opening band ends, the next one comes on, and rinse repeat. Brandon goes hard in the mosh pit for each and every band. He'll be feeling this shit in the morning, but until then, he's going to stomp, shove, slam, and kill everything in sight.

The headlining band for the night, None More Black, has finally taken the stage. They've delivered some brutal hits thus far, sending the crowd at the 1787 Collective into a frenzy. They aren't done yet, though. They get to a break between songs and the frontman has the look of insanity upon his face. It's time for everyone to fucking die. The frontman makes a chopping motion, then gestures for the concert goers to move to either side of the venue.

-Frontman-
“Split the fucking place down the middle! This is the wall of fucking death! When I get to three and this shit starts to shake these walls...run! Run as fast as you can and fucking murder somebody!”

The music starts to slowly pick up. It gets faster and faster as the crowd anticipates the wall of death. The frontman starts his count down as punks flip the bird to the other side and shout demeaning phrases about the other half of the venue.

-Frontman-
“1!

2!

3!”

The song kicks into full gear and the concert goers are about to implode on themselves. Each half of the room rushes towards the other. They're ready to meet in the middle and tear each others heads off. Brandon Moore is at the front of the pack. This is his territory. The wall of death is his game and he's ready to play it. Something happens, though. Rage fills him rather than the normal aggressive peacefulness that comes with moshing. Everything starts to appear to him in slow motion. His surroundings become a blur except for three individuals coming straight at him. Brandon is seeing red and he's not fighting it. He's giving in to the anger every step of the way. Yoda would not be proud.

He reaches the first individual, everything still in slow motion. He resembles one of the opponents in the opening match of the Wild Card Weekend's second night. Longer black hair and white face paint cover the man's head. It seems that Brandon is manifesting hallucinations of his opponents and this first one is that of Mysery. Is this a mosh pit or a wrestling match? The Mysery doppelganger and Brandon Moore are the first pair to meet at the center of the venue. The wall of death is one hundred percent underway now as the crowd is ripping into each other. Brandon makes quick work of Mysery by dropping a shoulder and sending him over with a back body drop. Maybe this really is a wrestling match now.

Brandon is still seeing everything in slow motion, only able to focus on the select individuals that his rage allows him. Next up, Brandon sets his sight on who he believes is Dawud “Tha Bully.” The pretty darker-skinned face isn't going to be so pretty anymore when Brandon gets done with him. The muscular African-American/Jamaican man doesn't even see Brandon coming. Brandon grabs Dawud by his plain white t-shirt and starts to drag him around the entire mosh pit. He bounces him off of the onlookers surrounding the pit over and over again, never letting go and never letting up. The look on Brandon's face is as if he has rabies. Eventually, after dragging this poor man all around the 1787 Collective's mosh pit, Brandon simply lets go of him. Dawud goes flying into the crowd, disappearing within the mosh pit's bystanders.

Last, but not least, Brandon has his eyes locked on someone he believes to be the Italian Cowboy, Cadryn Tiberius. The Cereal Killer has his eyes locked on Brandon as well. He's obviously seen what Brandon has been doing in the pit tonight and wants to challenge that. The two men approach each other, like a videogame scene or a bout of gladiatorial combat. Cadryn has a sickening smile on his face and...

BOOM!

Brandon absolutely gives no fucks. He lays a vicious headbutt into this guy he thinks is one of his debut opponents. That's when Brandon snaps out of it. His vision goes back to normal and he looks in front of him to see a middle-aged man who was just trying to flex his mosh pit muscles. The man has a bit of blood dripping down his head down as he lays on the ground. His opponents for the Wild Card Weekend are nowhere to be found. What Brandon does find, though, is himself caught in the middle of a scuffle now. A few friends of the man he landed a headbutt on rush in and try to get a piece of Brandon. The kids from earlier at the merch booth come to Brandon's aid. Now, everyone's going out for real rather than in a good old fashioned friendly mosh pit.

Brandon just starts swinging, going after anyone in sight that looks like they might be an enemy. He knows he did wrong and saw things that weren't truly there, but he's too far in now to not defend himself. It was only a matter of time before security stepped in. Three security guards that are on duty at the venue jump into the fray to break things up. It's obvious that Brandon is the culprit and that he is doing the most damage. One guard, the largest of the three, handles the crowd and keeps them back. The other two separate all of the fighters and focus on Brandon. They tackle him and try to keep him pinned to the concrete floor of the venue.

-Brandon Moore-
“Get the fuck off of me, rent-a-cops!”

His kicking, screaming, biting, and slithering is of no use, though. The larger guard had his section under controlled and now turned his attention to helping his brothers. He simply sits on Brandon and pushes his head down to the floor. The other two guards retrieve zip ties from their pockets and use them to tie Brandon's hands behind his back. It's the end of the line for Mr. Moore's rampage. The guards lift him to his feet and shove him towards the door. The band didn't stop for even a second during the battle. They finish a song and there is silence as everyone is focusing on the restraint of Brandon Moore.

-Brandon Moore-
“This show fucking ruled!”

Brandon screams that as they drag his ass out the door and shove him against the wall outside. They make him sit as one of the guards gets on his phone to dial 911. Brandon has no choice but to wait for the inevitable, so he begins to whistle Twinkle Twinkle Little Star. No doubt, his arrest is coming soon, at the worst possible time. It's just a couple nights before his big XWF debut. For his sake, this better be over quick, so he can get into that XWF ring and kick more ass like he did during the concert.]]> The doors are open. Kids and adults alike are piling in. They aren't pushing and shoving their way into the Boardwalk Hall, however. It's time to rage at the 1787 Collective. It is the night before the XWF's Wild Card Weekend kicks off in Las Vegas. That means it is two nights before the Boardwalk Hall in Atlantic City is invaded by the federation for the second night of the Wild Card Weekend. The line is thinning and the final patrons are making their way into the Collective. The smaller venue is housing a sold out show with some of the hottest local metal and hardcore acts. Included in the final wave of entrants is none other than Brandon Moore. He abruptly ended an interview to make sure he made the show in time, still wearing his Job for a Cowboy shirt and his beanie. Brandon reaches the front door of the venue and reaches in his pocket.

-Venue Worker-
“Ticket?”

Brandon pulls out a piece of computer printer paper, one side filled with ink. He printed off his ticket at the hotel in the morning and kept it with him all day long. The venue worker uses his handy little machine to scan the barcode on the ticket. A successful “BING!” follows and the ticket is handed back to the XWF superstar. Brandon doesn't drink, but he next pulls his wallet from his pocket to flash his ID to the next venue worker.

-Venue Worker-
“Drinking tonight?”

-Brandon Moore-
“Nah, I just don't want you to mark my hands to shit. The marker probably smells like fuck knows what.”

Brandon was right, as he could smell it on all the minors that are attending the show. The second venue worker near the entrance of the 1787 Collective places a blue wristband on Brandon's right wrist. The worker nods and Brandon heads into the show, ready to throw down.

-Venue Worker-
“Enjoy the show.”

Brandon does what he always does the minute he walks into a show. He heads straight for the merchandise tables to see if there is anything good he'd like to come back for. He'd rather not buy something now and carry it around the whole show. Especially if he's going to be slamming and moshing. Four bands from the surrounding area in New Jersey all have their buddies and girlfriends running their merch stands. He sees a few good shirts that he'd might like to snag before the night is over. As his stands with his arms folded, surveying the different merchandise available, a few young men are busy surveying him. They approach Brandon and just about scare the shit out of him.

-Concert Goer-
“You're fucking Brandon Moore, right?!”

He taps Brandon the shoulder and Brandon comes close to send a fist upside the kids head.

-Brandon Moore-
“Jesus fuck! Who the fuck are youse guys?”

-Concert Goer 2-
“We're huge wrestling fans! We like wrestling and going to shows just like you! Isn't this awesome?!”

-Concert Goer 3-
“You're debuting for XWF in town this weekend, aren't you? We are totally going to be there!”

-Brandon Moore-
“Whoopdy fucking do. I'm just trying to enjoy a show and throw the fuck down.”

-Concert Goer 2-
“You're great in the ring! I can't believe you're in front of me right now. This is insane!”

-Brandon Moore-
“Yeah, okay...um...fuck off, thanks.”

Brandon gives a curious look and walks away, leaving the second of the bunch totally hanging. No high fives for him today. The kids look dumbfounded, thinking they'd get an autograph or easy entrance in the Wild Card Weekend event. Think again, little shits. Brandon Moore doesn't give a flying fuck about you. He's had enough of the little pukes at the show and is ready to get his slam on. Lucky enough for Brandon, the show is about to begin. The first band finished the sound check before the doors opened and they're ready to roll right on time. That's a surprise.

-Frontman-
“Let's fucking go! We're Homegrown, from right here in Atlantic City, baby! Get the fuck to the front! Fill this place in and kill somebody!”

The band starts to thrash their instruments and the frontman starts screaming unintelligible and brutal vocals. Brandon gets a devilish smirk on his face as the group of concert goers just stand there and nod their heads along to the music. The place is packed for the opening band and everyone is standing still? Fuck that. Brandon takes a deep breath and knows exactly what he's going to do next...

FUCKING RAGE!

He charges forward and shoves as many people as he can.

-Brandon Moore-
“Fucking move!”

A solid handful of other concert goers get the hint and join in on the havoc. The caveman shoving contest has begun! Brandon hates just about everything and can be a total dick at times, but he lives for this shit. Wrestling and metal are everything to him. For the rarest of rare moments, Brandon feels at peace. He's at home. To others, though, it's a shame it only happens when he's doing some sort of bodily harm to the human race. He's got some anger problems and this solves it. This goes on and on throughout the show. The opening band ends, the next one comes on, and rinse repeat. Brandon goes hard in the mosh pit for each and every band. He'll be feeling this shit in the morning, but until then, he's going to stomp, shove, slam, and kill everything in sight.

The headlining band for the night, None More Black, has finally taken the stage. They've delivered some brutal hits thus far, sending the crowd at the 1787 Collective into a frenzy. They aren't done yet, though. They get to a break between songs and the frontman has the look of insanity upon his face. It's time for everyone to fucking die. The frontman makes a chopping motion, then gestures for the concert goers to move to either side of the venue.

-Frontman-
“Split the fucking place down the middle! This is the wall of fucking death! When I get to three and this shit starts to shake these walls...run! Run as fast as you can and fucking murder somebody!”

The music starts to slowly pick up. It gets faster and faster as the crowd anticipates the wall of death. The frontman starts his count down as punks flip the bird to the other side and shout demeaning phrases about the other half of the venue.

-Frontman-
“1!

2!

3!”

The song kicks into full gear and the concert goers are about to implode on themselves. Each half of the room rushes towards the other. They're ready to meet in the middle and tear each others heads off. Brandon Moore is at the front of the pack. This is his territory. The wall of death is his game and he's ready to play it. Something happens, though. Rage fills him rather than the normal aggressive peacefulness that comes with moshing. Everything starts to appear to him in slow motion. His surroundings become a blur except for three individuals coming straight at him. Brandon is seeing red and he's not fighting it. He's giving in to the anger every step of the way. Yoda would not be proud.

He reaches the first individual, everything still in slow motion. He resembles one of the opponents in the opening match of the Wild Card Weekend's second night. Longer black hair and white face paint cover the man's head. It seems that Brandon is manifesting hallucinations of his opponents and this first one is that of Mysery. Is this a mosh pit or a wrestling match? The Mysery doppelganger and Brandon Moore are the first pair to meet at the center of the venue. The wall of death is one hundred percent underway now as the crowd is ripping into each other. Brandon makes quick work of Mysery by dropping a shoulder and sending him over with a back body drop. Maybe this really is a wrestling match now.

Brandon is still seeing everything in slow motion, only able to focus on the select individuals that his rage allows him. Next up, Brandon sets his sight on who he believes is Dawud “Tha Bully.” The pretty darker-skinned face isn't going to be so pretty anymore when Brandon gets done with him. The muscular African-American/Jamaican man doesn't even see Brandon coming. Brandon grabs Dawud by his plain white t-shirt and starts to drag him around the entire mosh pit. He bounces him off of the onlookers surrounding the pit over and over again, never letting go and never letting up. The look on Brandon's face is as if he has rabies. Eventually, after dragging this poor man all around the 1787 Collective's mosh pit, Brandon simply lets go of him. Dawud goes flying into the crowd, disappearing within the mosh pit's bystanders.

Last, but not least, Brandon has his eyes locked on someone he believes to be the Italian Cowboy, Cadryn Tiberius. The Cereal Killer has his eyes locked on Brandon as well. He's obviously seen what Brandon has been doing in the pit tonight and wants to challenge that. The two men approach each other, like a videogame scene or a bout of gladiatorial combat. Cadryn has a sickening smile on his face and...

BOOM!

Brandon absolutely gives no fucks. He lays a vicious headbutt into this guy he thinks is one of his debut opponents. That's when Brandon snaps out of it. His vision goes back to normal and he looks in front of him to see a middle-aged man who was just trying to flex his mosh pit muscles. The man has a bit of blood dripping down his head down as he lays on the ground. His opponents for the Wild Card Weekend are nowhere to be found. What Brandon does find, though, is himself caught in the middle of a scuffle now. A few friends of the man he landed a headbutt on rush in and try to get a piece of Brandon. The kids from earlier at the merch booth come to Brandon's aid. Now, everyone's going out for real rather than in a good old fashioned friendly mosh pit.

Brandon just starts swinging, going after anyone in sight that looks like they might be an enemy. He knows he did wrong and saw things that weren't truly there, but he's too far in now to not defend himself. It was only a matter of time before security stepped in. Three security guards that are on duty at the venue jump into the fray to break things up. It's obvious that Brandon is the culprit and that he is doing the most damage. One guard, the largest of the three, handles the crowd and keeps them back. The other two separate all of the fighters and focus on Brandon. They tackle him and try to keep him pinned to the concrete floor of the venue.

-Brandon Moore-
“Get the fuck off of me, rent-a-cops!”

His kicking, screaming, biting, and slithering is of no use, though. The larger guard had his section under controlled and now turned his attention to helping his brothers. He simply sits on Brandon and pushes his head down to the floor. The other two guards retrieve zip ties from their pockets and use them to tie Brandon's hands behind his back. It's the end of the line for Mr. Moore's rampage. The guards lift him to his feet and shove him towards the door. The band didn't stop for even a second during the battle. They finish a song and there is silence as everyone is focusing on the restraint of Brandon Moore.

-Brandon Moore-
“This show fucking ruled!”

Brandon screams that as they drag his ass out the door and shove him against the wall outside. They make him sit as one of the guards gets on his phone to dial 911. Brandon has no choice but to wait for the inevitable, so he begins to whistle Twinkle Twinkle Little Star. No doubt, his arrest is coming soon, at the worst possible time. It's just a couple nights before his big XWF debut. For his sake, this better be over quick, so he can get into that XWF ring and kick more ass like he did during the concert.]]> <![CDATA[With A Little Help RP 1]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=25760 Wed, 07 Dec 2016 17:40:31 -0800 Barney Green]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=25760

The end is coming for me soon. I know I got very little left in the tank. The final time I step into the ring could be at Wild Card Weekend. The Boston Brawler in New Jersey for what could be my final match.

Without all these fans that have supported me over the years, I wouldn't be stepping into the ring come December 11th at thirty-two years old challenging for a belt. Thomas Nixon wants to run his mouth about me. Last I checked, I didn't almost get impeached as President and utter the phrase, "I Am Not A Crook." I will destroy you with every ounce of fire left running through my veins.

Broken Hart and Jakob Davis are gonna be easy pickings for me. Should I win the Television Title, I may stick around or retire automatically. Either way, I am retiring at the end of the year.

Without my friends and all the help I have been given, There would be no Barney Fuckin' Green. I am truly humbled at the fact that the fans want to see me wrestle. I have traveled thousands upon thousands of miles and put many unneeded miles on my body to entertain the fans. Come Wild Card Weekend, This is the end of an era. The final showdown for Barney Green. If I win, I will defend the belt until I lose it. If I lose, I will address the fans one final time on either Warfare or Savage and say goodbye to everyone.

Standing in the spotlight one final time. One final moment. One more night. One more moment. I am old now and falling apart. I can still get it up. Thank you all for everything from the bottom of my heart.

-Barney Green
]]>

The end is coming for me soon. I know I got very little left in the tank. The final time I step into the ring could be at Wild Card Weekend. The Boston Brawler in New Jersey for what could be my final match.

Without all these fans that have supported me over the years, I wouldn't be stepping into the ring come December 11th at thirty-two years old challenging for a belt. Thomas Nixon wants to run his mouth about me. Last I checked, I didn't almost get impeached as President and utter the phrase, "I Am Not A Crook." I will destroy you with every ounce of fire left running through my veins.

Broken Hart and Jakob Davis are gonna be easy pickings for me. Should I win the Television Title, I may stick around or retire automatically. Either way, I am retiring at the end of the year.

Without my friends and all the help I have been given, There would be no Barney Fuckin' Green. I am truly humbled at the fact that the fans want to see me wrestle. I have traveled thousands upon thousands of miles and put many unneeded miles on my body to entertain the fans. Come Wild Card Weekend, This is the end of an era. The final showdown for Barney Green. If I win, I will defend the belt until I lose it. If I lose, I will address the fans one final time on either Warfare or Savage and say goodbye to everyone.

Standing in the spotlight one final time. One final moment. One more night. One more moment. I am old now and falling apart. I can still get it up. Thank you all for everything from the bottom of my heart.

-Barney Green
]]> <![CDATA[Weary Traveler]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=25811 Wed, 07 Dec 2016 12:46:51 -0800 TD1]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=25811

Wednesday, November 30, 2016 | 11:18 AM Local Time | Illuminatus One | 30,000 Feet Above the United States

The Prince and his entourage are mid-flight. They’ve literally been traveling nearly nonstop since just after the meeting with the Holy Father. Thaddeus Duke, in his own way, has been on an apology tour of sorts, visiting many of the areas torn up by the war on the Church. From Rome, to Berlin, to Warsaw, and everything in between. He’s made speeches, visited hospitals, fed children- basically anything he could do in order to help repair the image of the Illuminatus.

In the eyes of many, the Illuminatus is nothing more than an extremist group, not unlike terrorist factions that paralyze the world with fear. It is an incorrect view, but again, perception is reality. The young Prince has taken it upon himself to try and correct that image and it hasn’t been easy. Until the world can view the Illuminatus as an organization of peace and not one of war, they will always be outsiders, conquerors. Perhaps that perception may never change. One thing is for certain, if the Illuminatus sits back and waits for people around the world to accept their existence without actually doing anything to change how they’re viewed, those views will never change. Their only course here, is action. Well intentioned action.

I was born James William Edwards the third in a hospital outside of London. The year was 1997 and the world was reeling from the untimely, tragic death of the Peoples’ Princess, Diana. My father was British military and as such we moved around Europe quite a bit. Mostly England. Greece for awhile. Germany came later on around the age of 8 and its where we stayed for the next decade. English by birth, German by choice and circumstance.

When I turned 15 I told my father I wanted to join the military just like him. He was proud. He thought I’d make a good soldier. One thing he taught me was that a soldiers duty was to protect their citizens and their nation, and not necessarily the government that controls them.

I was just out of camp when the Illuminatus touched down in Germany and took control of the nation. My initial instinct was to resist, as would anyone’s. I’d be lying though, if I claimed that this small group of men so powerful wasn’t intriguing to young men like myself. Most Illuminatus men are born into it, raised to accept only one way of life- the Illuminatus way. My presence within their ranks is nearly without precedence. But I remembered. I remembered that my father taught me about my duty to man and country. So rather than resist, I did my job. I helped protect my fellow German citizens. The best way in my mind to do that was to work for the Illuminatus. If I worked for them, I’d know what their plans were. Fortunately, they were never intent on harming German citizens, at least that I’m aware of.

Circumstances brought me closer to the Illuminatus hierarchy over time. Once Jacob was killed by assassins, the King was on a mission. They knew the target was the three heads, Asmodeus, Sebastian and Thaddeus. What’s the old saying? Cut the head from the snake, and watch the body die. Or something like that at least. When the shots were being fired, my quick reaction was to throw the Prince to the ground, cover him and if necessary, give my life to protect his. Sebastian Duke respected that and made me his sons Blood Guardian.

Being close in age, Thaddeus and I became quick friends. It is easy to look at the young man and hear him speak and think that he’s nothing more than a spoiled little rich kid, living off of his fathers fame and his grandfathers fortune. In a lot of ways, you’d probably be right. But it’s the only life he’s ever known. He can not be faulted for that. As his friend, I can tell you that over the past few days and touring parts of Europe affected by the war, it’s changed him. He’s beginning to realize what real life is like. Real life without all the money and the fame. Not everyone is fortunate enough to have even one meal in a day, let alone three or even more.

I’ve learned, and perhaps even he has too, that regardless of what you think of Thaddeus Duke, he has a soft heart.

The wheels of the 767 screech as they hit the runway. The all black jumbo jet with the red iron cross on its tail zooms passed dozens of parked aircraft as its engines wind down. With a plane this large, it always feels as if it’ll never slow down enough before it reaches the end of the runway, yet it always does. After the plane slows to a stop, its taxied to a private into hangar rented for the occasion. Once inside, the door is opened and the steps are moved into position. Seconds later, the Illuminatus Prince and his small entourage exit the craft and descend the steps and immediately enter a trio of heavily armored Ford Explorers. The convoy moves out.

”That was a long flight,” James says to his charge.

”It didn’t seem it, really,” the Prince responds, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

”Probably because you slept for 90% of the trip,” James says with a slight laugh.

”I was tired.”

The remainder of the trip remains quiet. Thaddeus Duke stares out the window as rundown neighborhood after rundown neighborhood passes before his eyes. He can only shake his head in disgust. It boggles his mind how a nation so rich can let its own cities fall into such despair.

TO BE CONTINUED…

Wednesday, November 30, 2016 | 11:18 AM Local Time | Illuminatus One | 30,000 Feet Above the United States

Doctor Louis D’Ville is upset that people keep claiming his time is up. He doesn’t state it directly, but he does infer that I’ve said that too. What I said was that his time in the XWF sun slowly dwindles down towards its inevitable conclusion. Since apparently Doc can not or will not read between the lines, allow me to explain what it is I meant by that statement. The facts are the facts, Doc. I can and will give the devil his due and say that Doctor D’Ville is a worthy adversary. One of the greatest of all time even. The fact remains, that his end is a lot closer than his beginning. Everyone has an expiration date, Doc. Even you. Have you reached it? No.

You know, not that long ago, people tried to tell my father that his time was up too. All he did, was come back and run roughshod over the roster and win more titles before disappearing again. That’s just his way. He plays the game until he’s bored, then rides off into the moonlight to fight another day.

Doc has no problem with the new youth movement, but he has a problem with the new youth movement.

Let that sink in. Don’t let his words fool you, people.

Doctor D’Ville is part of the status quo. He’s an established veteran with a track record that one can not deny and it certainly speaks for itself. Doc’s problem is with people like me coming into the Xtreme Wrestling Federation and shoving the establishment aside. Doc is like Hulk Hogan trying to protect his spot. Let’s build the young talent so I can squash them and remind them who the real King is around here.

He lives on the words of the young as if words, rather than action, are what gets the needle moving around here. Perhaps it does to some extent but its action, results within the sanctioned halls of the XWF arenas, that really moves the needle. Doc isn’t stupid. He knows that, too.

He mentions my repeated slammings of Vince Lane for not including me in the Television title match at Wild Card, yet refuses to realize or perhaps he flat out missed the part where I said that facing Doctor D’Ville was a damn gift. Probably not in those exact words, but you get the idea. I never actually cared about competing for that title. All I was doing was pointing out facts. I’ve beaten two of the four that are in that match and it wasn’t particularly difficult to do it.

Facts are facts. Excuse me for pointing them out.

My father told me that people would paint my pending relationship with Dolly Waters in a sexual light. The good Doctor proves him right. It’s as if this entire roster is so deeply unsatisfied with their own sexual prowess, that they need to make any XWF relationship between a male and female a sexual one. Allow me to inform you, Doc, and everyone else for that matter, that I do not care what anyone thinks of that pending relationship. If it comes to pass, the world will see exactly what it is and there’s no two ways about that.

I’m not one to flaunt and parade my sexuality upon the world. Leave that to the degenerates with nothing better to do.

I really don’t know what is worse. Pointing out facts that are perceived as whining, or actually repeatedly whining over my perceived whining. Don’t get me wrong, I can see the misconception. I really can. A lot of what I’ve said regarding that title situation was due to boredom. I mean, can you blame me? Look at my useless opponents that I’ve had that have literally bored everyone to death with their mere presence in the XWF. Ghost Taint. Jake Davis. Luca “I Was Never That Good, Really” Arzegotti. Mike Graves number one. Thomas Nixon.

Could you really blame me for having to shoot off at the mouth about other things rather than those ass hats? I mean seriously, those terribly monotonous opponents gave me no excitement whatsoever.

You’re different Doc. You’re certainly not boring.

The time is drawing close. Soon, the time for talk will end and the time for action will begin. Doc claims he’s going to tear me up. Eat me. Puke me up. Eat me again or something. Then shit me on what he puked up. Such pointed words from such an awesome talent. I’m joking on the former, not so much on the latter. Really Doc, who says that? You’re not going to do any of that. You could defeat me, sure. I mean, nothing is a guarantee when it comes to winning and losing. Such terribly stated nothingness can only be a mask for your own doubt that you’ll get the job done.

You know what I can guarantee? That this match will be the highlight of the night. That this match will go back and forth. That this match will undoubtedly be the best of both nights. That this match will begin to solidify my star power regardless of the outcome.

Do not misunderstand me, Doc. I can not guarantee that I’ll win. But make no mistake, I have the confidence in my own abilities, to defeat you. You’re a great competitor and I respect your ability and the fact that you say the same for me. All of that respect leaves the moment the bell rings and I have no doubts that you agree.

I have every intention of defeating you. I’m not backing down from you or anyone else. You can say whatever the hell you want about my youth and my supposed self-entitlement- I mean, it’s like hearing that mindless drone Thomas Nixon talk about me all over again. None of it makes any difference to me because it has all been said before and it’ll certainly be said a hundred times more in the future.

Our histories here are obviously different. You’re a veteran and I’m just beginning. That makes you the bigger dog in this fight. The bigger they are, Doc, the harder they fall.]]> <![CDATA[Thunderhorse]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=25804 Wed, 07 Dec 2016 10:42:29 -0800 Prof. Bobby Bourbon]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=25804

Robbie Bourbon recently turned into a centaur briefly to shit himself onto the floor. Steve Sayors is visiting the Bourbon Dojo and is currently dressed in a polyester suit with collars large enough to hold an Applebee's menu while wearing a feathery 70's disco style wig. A horse died. We all laughed and laughed.

Someone took umbrage to the dead horse.

THUNDERHORSE

We open to see the massive and busy interior of the Robbie Bourbon Dojo for the Competitive arts. There are wet floor signs strewn about in front of Robbie's office, and a crew of students mull about with mops tidying up the mess that Robbie left during his last promo. The whole dojo is subdued, not many people willing to cook, cut hair, or hang out in a Dunkin Donuts when the whole place smells of dead horse, horse shit, and regurgitated mayonnaise. The ring, however, is full and busy.

We see Robbie Bourbon in the ring surrounded by several students, along with Cyberjaw, the man with the cybernetic jaw, Diamondback, the man who can blend into any crowd, Xtreme Travel Agent, possible victim of Stockholm Syndrome, and Disco Steve Sayors, 2016 Holiday special edition Bourbon Man retailing for over $100 on eBay.

Well, Steve, since you're Disco Steve, honorary Bourbon Man, we figure we'd let you get in on our regular training session here in the dojo. First, we like to warm up with a little robot yoga.

What's Robot Yoga?

Oh, it's something Marcel does for us.

Marcel, Robbie's yoga instructor, walks onto the apron and enters the ring. He's almost a full foot taller than Robbie, is wearing aviator shades, has an afro with a two foot diameter, and is otherwise dressed in a vibrant orange track suit. As he enters by scaling one foot over the top at a time, text reading "NEW BOURBON MAN ALERT!" scrolls along the bottom of the screen.

Robbie, they took away my tennis channel.

Oh, I'm sorry. Hold on.

Robbie pulls his cell phone out as Marcel stands and waits for some kind of action to take place. Robbie dials. After a moment, he speaks into the phone.

Hi, I'm Robbie Bourbon, account number *BEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEP*, cable. Thank you. Hi. Robbie. I'm missing the tennis channel. Yes, I'll hold.

Robbie looks at Marcel.

I'm talking to them now, Marcel.

I need my tennis channel.

Yes? Oh.

Robbie turns to Marcel while lowering the phone.

The moved the tennis channel, we need to subscribe to a higher plan if they want that.

Marcel's shoulders slump as his gaze is cast to the mat.

Damn.

I know. You want to go halvsies on the new bill? We need to upgrade to get it.

I already pay a lot for the cable.

I know, I know. Hold on.

Robbie puts the phone back to his head.

Go ahead and upgrade us. Put the billing in my name.

Robbie nods with the phone to his head, for no real reason since the person on the other end of the phone couldn't hear it. He puts his phone back in his pocket.

We'll have the tennis channel back in forty-five minutes.

Cool.

Okay, lead us, Marcel.

Marcel leads his yoga instruction of Robbie and his students by first moving into the first phase of the Robot, dance craze from the 1980's. Disco Steve steps into the first motion, but looks bewildered. Marcel then proceeds to lead Robbie and the whole class through performing the Robot, only holding position and taking deep breaths between each motion.

Feel that deep tissue waking up, Steve?

Honestly, yeah, a little.

Marcel finishes his routine after a few minutes and turns, bowing to the class.

Later, Rob. Namaste. Take it easy, everybody.

Marcel steps over the top rope and to the floor gingerly and with the grace of a swan as he smoothly walks down one of the halls of the Robbie Bourbon Dojo to presumably sit around and watch the tennis channel.

Wow, Robbie, he's pretty tall, does he want to join the XWF?

What? No, Marcel is a pacifist.

Oh, well, oh. What's next?

Next, we do something called Everybody Hit Everybody.

What?

Yeah, we're just going to go bonkers and beat the fuck out of each other with no rhyme or reason for a few minutes until we're all good and subdued and hurt, then we'll try doing technical shit.

Well, that sounds rough.

It's Xtreme.

Suddenly, we hear a loud crash as something bolts through the front doors of the dojo. Two orbs come from the figure and into the ring, which explode with a deafening bang, leaving all in the ring doubled over and helpless. It leaps from the floor into the ring. For a brief moment, it stands still, and we see what looks like an anthropomorphic horse costume. It scoops Cyberjaw up and over one shoulder, then Xtreme Travel Agent over the other, and bolts out of the dojo! A few seconds later, and Robbie Bourbon is surveying his dojo.

Is everyone okay?

Where's Cyberjaw?

I don't know!

Robbie, what is happening, did you...

No, I didn't. Look, sometimes shit like this happens, especially when you're an international super agent.

Oh, like when you...

Shhh, loose lips sink ships, Steve. Now, look, I know you only came on today to be an honorary Bourbon Man, but I just lost one of my best guys, and all the rest of my people are taking off for the holidays. Time for Disco Steve Sayors to do some real deal Bourbon Man shit, living that life, can you handle it?

Fuck no!

Steve starts to take his feathery 70's wig off and unbutton the buttons of his very itchy polyester shirt.

But, Steve, c'mon man. For the people.

Steve stops and stares at something beyond the camera. His demeanor grim, his fortitude bolstered, he puts his feathery hair back on and straightens up his ugly disco suit.

Disco Steve Sayors is doing it for the PEOPLE!

Steve hollers at the end, sounding like a four year old girl in doing so. Robbie claps him heartily on the back.

Attaboy. Let's go wreck this shithead.

We don't even know where he's at.

Yeah we do. Hold on.

Robbie pulls his phone out. He slides his fingers around for a moment.

Okay, I have Cyberjaw on my phone plan, so I'm tracking his location signal as we speak. He looks like he's headed into the city.

Don't forget about Xtreme Travel Agent!

Who?

You know, that girl from...

Oh, right, right, yeah. She's spunky and all. I don't pay for her phone, though.

Yeah, but you have to save her too.

Right. Anyway, Cyberjaw...

And Xtreme Travel Agent!

...and Xtreme Travel Agent most likely are going to be, well, damn.

What is it, Robbie?

They're on U Street. I don't know why, is that thing trying to get something to eat?

Suddenly, on a TV in the background, one mounted to a bare steel wall of Robbie's dojo, we see the image of the anthropomorphic horse from before.

Robbie Bourbon.

It's voice comes through deep, and gravelly. Robbie turns and looks at the screen.

Fuck, this guy has that weird ability to hijack news broadcasts or something.

If you're watching this, it means you haven't been killed by me yet. The way you defiled a horse in your quest to win the XWF Universal Championship is not only crude and demeaning, but a full on disgrace to mammal kind. We're all mammals, Robbie, not horrible, death wringing lizards like the dinosaurs. Mammals are warm blooded creatures that have to mate to reproduce. As such, if you don't come down to these crazed meatatarian streets at the corner of 14th and U, I will force these two Bourbon Men to mate.

The camera feed from the TV showing this anthropomorphic horse zooms out to show both Xtreme Travel Agent and Cyberjaw are bound in duct tape beside him. Robbie shrugs as Diamondback facepalms.

They've been fucking for about two weeks now. So what?

That's right, Robbie, I'm here to let you know your place in the mammal kingdom, for I am Thunderhorse. Meet me, or they will produce offspring!

Jesus, come on dude, Cyberjaw and Xtreme Travel Agent are already knocking boots! What kind of supervillain is this? Seriously, he had a flashbang, can manipulate media like, well, a top tier supervillain can, but had no planning whatsoever! He might as well have kidnapped Joe Biden and threatened to keep feeding him peanut butter with Reese's Pieces mixed in.

My favorite meal.

Joe Biden steps onscreen, and Disco Steve Sayors is left with his mouth wide open.

Oh, wow, the Vice-King of the Jobbers!

And you're the Disco Steve Sayors! Welcome aboard, son. Now, Robbie, I've noticed this Thunderhorse seems legitimately more threatening than any of your opponents for the Elimination Chamber Universal Championship Match at Wild Card.

Well, he is targeting me specifically, Joe, but maybe you're right. Maybe a man in a furry horse costume who wants my friends to fuck each other in front of him is legit scarier than Trax or Chris Chaos, but Peter Gilmour's creepy ass has done way weirder things than watch my friends bone. I think, or at least I hope Peter Gilmour doesn't watch either me or my friends have sex. One can never really tell, he reprograms the crack XWF production equipment to go be voyeuristic and spy on Benito Angelo while he showers. Now that I think of it, though, I could totally see Unknown Soldier dressing up as a furry horse and watching my friends fuck.

So you know where Thunderhorse is holding Xtreme Travel Agent and Cyberjaw?

Yes.

Do you think it's a trap?

Of course.

So, do you want me to go with my metal detector first?

No, Joe, I don't think sending the Vice-President in with a metal detector is really under the radar, bud. I'm just going to go in and have a look see.

But, Robbie, if you think it's a trap, and from the sounds of things this Thunderhorse guy wants you dead, why just go in blindly?

Because, Steve, you didn't know? I mean, there are some confused people out there, like Chris Chaos, who thinks a fish pinned him last Warfare, who thinks that anybody in that Elimination Chamber is Louis D'Ville, and whom I hope had the decency to pay the seven dollars to fish on that pier since he balked on paying the five the other day to some kid to just walk. There are some confounded people out there like Trax who think I'm supposed to be ashamed of having the people behind me, even in matches some times, even though the people are what I'm all about. There are some constipated people out there like Peter Gilmour, who constantly looks like he has to shit and has been holding it in since 1994. But Steven, you of all people aught to know by now, especially since you're now a dickhair away from being first string Bourbon Men.

My name is Robbie Motherfucking Bourbon. The people all remember that name, Steve, even you, because it's the name of the man too stupid to acknowledge fear. Too brazen to even consider he's ever beaten. Too cocksure to run, too arrogant to flee, and too ignorant to give in to cowardice. Frankly, Steve, for all my faults, for all the things my opponents could be exploiting right now, they keep bringing up the simple fact that I, Robbie M. Bourbon, have balls to spare and the heart that will keep beating even when you've ripped it out of my chest and I've strangled the life out of you to get it back and put it back in place. I'm the berzerker, the barbarian, and the raging monster that will bait you back to my killing grounds, slowly but surely.

Seriously, don't you think we should get going to save Cyberjaw and Xtreme Travel Agent?

Yup!

Robbie runs out of the ring and towards the front door as Joe Biden keeps pace right behind him. We see Diamonback give a backhanded tap to Disco Steve Sayors's shoulder as he leaves the ring for the front door, and Disco Steve hustles to keep up. All four men enter the A-Team van painted to look like the Ghostbusters car and Robbie punches the gas, peeling out of the parking lot of the Robbie Bourbon Dojo of the competitive arts.

We regain our bearings in the van as we see Robbie intently zooming in and out of traffic, driving like a man possessed towards the center of Washington, DC, from Alexandria. He's crossing the Potomac, and a Metro line train is seen going in the opposite direction back towards the Pentagon and Reagan National Airport.

Good thing there's no traffic!

I know, right?

I was being facetious!

Oh, look who's funny now.

Seriously, you've been driving on the shoulder now and running stop lights, narrowly getting into accidents everywhere!

I'm great at driving, Steve.

He is really solid behind the wheel.

Thank you, Joe.

Robbie hands Joe Biden a cookie, but not into his hands, straight into his mouth. Joe noshes on the cookie with a delighted expression on his face.

Robbie pulls the car up to the blocked intersection of 14th and U, and if you have any knowledge whatsoever about the grid of the District of Columbia, blocking off 14th and U is absolutely insane. It doesn't get blocked ever, not even during citywide celebrations, not even for the Presidential inauguration. A brigade of SWAT and other police line the blocked off section of street, with thousands of people all crowded around looking on in wonder. Robbie rushes the line and hops the barricade, and within is Thunderhorse, alongside Cyberjaw and Xtreme Travel Agent, who seem to be necking, or as best as Cyberjaw can neck with his cybernetic jaw.

Ah, you've come. Big mistake, Robbie. You shouldn't have come to this place at all. You should have allowed me to breed your friends and allow them to spawn, for all mammality!

That's fucking weird!

What?

All mammality? Seriously?

Shut it!

Thunderhorse lobs another flashbang at Robbie, and Robbie catches it, containing the blast between his hands. Robbie immediately jumps around, wringing his hands, which must be in excrutiating pain.

God damnit motherfuck son of a bitch! Jesus!

Impressive, Bourbon, but you are just here to die for what you did to a poor horse, and for what? To win the Universal Heavyweight Championship?

Joe Biden, Disco Steve Sayors, and Diamondback all get to the barricade. Diamondback tries to wave to his buddy Cyberjaw, but Cyberjaw is too busy getting some of that sweet, sweet Xtreme Travel Agent action.

I will do whatever it takes to walk out of that chamber with the Universal Championship in my hands!

Robbie rushes Thunderhorse and picks him up in an Argentine backbreaker! Robbie clinches in the pressure on the back, then with a whipping action over both his shoulders, he drives Thunderhorse into the pavement headfirst!

Shit!

The people are all gobsmacked at this.

What is it, Steve?

What was that?

Oh, that? Just some basic little move.

Basic little move? I've never fucking seen anybody in the XWF ever do it! Why don't you do that instead of the Neckwrecker?

Because I like the Neckwrecker. It's like a normal neckbreaker, only worse because I've perfected it.

No, that's...

You have a shitty finisher, Robbie.

Shut up.

No.

Diamondback lights a cigarette.

Robbie, your finisher has been scrutinized, even by you yourself. Can you do what you just did again?

Robbie shrugs. He walks over to Thunderhorse, scoops him up, and delivers the same move again.

That's it!

What's it?

That's your new finisher! That's the Robbiedriver!

The people, police, and SWAT all ooh and ah at the declaration of the name.

I like it!

See, Robbie, you should have let me interview you decades ago.

I did.

Robbie pinches the lapel of Disco Steve Sayors's seventies polyester disco suit and ruffles his feathery 70's wig and winks at Steve. A half smile crawls across the face of Steve Sayors. Robbie walks over to where Cyberjaw and Xtreme Travel Agent are and starts to untie them.

Five more minutes, dude.

This is so hot!

What?

Like, everybody watching, the bondage, this is the kinkiest sex I think I'll ever have!

Not on my watch!

Robbie unties Cyberjaw and Xtreme Travel Agent.

You guys go...

Thunderhorse staggers to his feet.

You think you've won here, today? You think I'm going to stop! You don't even know how far Thunderhorse is willing to go!

Robbie reaches in Cyberjaw's pocket and removes the Growing Beam. He aims for Thunderhorse's anthropomorphic horse costume mask, sitting atop his shoulders. Robbie pulls the trigger, and in a moment Thunderhorse is trapped beneath his own mask, which is now five times larger.

Hey, let me out of here, I'm your supervillain arch-nemesis!

No, fool, I'm the arch-nemesis around here, because I'm the next Universal Heavyweight Champion.]]>

Robbie Bourbon recently turned into a centaur briefly to shit himself onto the floor. Steve Sayors is visiting the Bourbon Dojo and is currently dressed in a polyester suit with collars large enough to hold an Applebee's menu while wearing a feathery 70's disco style wig. A horse died. We all laughed and laughed.

Someone took umbrage to the dead horse.

THUNDERHORSE

We open to see the massive and busy interior of the Robbie Bourbon Dojo for the Competitive arts. There are wet floor signs strewn about in front of Robbie's office, and a crew of students mull about with mops tidying up the mess that Robbie left during his last promo. The whole dojo is subdued, not many people willing to cook, cut hair, or hang out in a Dunkin Donuts when the whole place smells of dead horse, horse shit, and regurgitated mayonnaise. The ring, however, is full and busy.

We see Robbie Bourbon in the ring surrounded by several students, along with Cyberjaw, the man with the cybernetic jaw, Diamondback, the man who can blend into any crowd, Xtreme Travel Agent, possible victim of Stockholm Syndrome, and Disco Steve Sayors, 2016 Holiday special edition Bourbon Man retailing for over $100 on eBay.

Well, Steve, since you're Disco Steve, honorary Bourbon Man, we figure we'd let you get in on our regular training session here in the dojo. First, we like to warm up with a little robot yoga.

What's Robot Yoga?

Oh, it's something Marcel does for us.

Marcel, Robbie's yoga instructor, walks onto the apron and enters the ring. He's almost a full foot taller than Robbie, is wearing aviator shades, has an afro with a two foot diameter, and is otherwise dressed in a vibrant orange track suit. As he enters by scaling one foot over the top at a time, text reading "NEW BOURBON MAN ALERT!" scrolls along the bottom of the screen.

Robbie, they took away my tennis channel.

Oh, I'm sorry. Hold on.

Robbie pulls his cell phone out as Marcel stands and waits for some kind of action to take place. Robbie dials. After a moment, he speaks into the phone.

Hi, I'm Robbie Bourbon, account number *BEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEP*, cable. Thank you. Hi. Robbie. I'm missing the tennis channel. Yes, I'll hold.

Robbie looks at Marcel.

I'm talking to them now, Marcel.

I need my tennis channel.

Yes? Oh.

Robbie turns to Marcel while lowering the phone.

The moved the tennis channel, we need to subscribe to a higher plan if they want that.

Marcel's shoulders slump as his gaze is cast to the mat.

Damn.

I know. You want to go halvsies on the new bill? We need to upgrade to get it.

I already pay a lot for the cable.

I know, I know. Hold on.

Robbie puts the phone back to his head.

Go ahead and upgrade us. Put the billing in my name.

Robbie nods with the phone to his head, for no real reason since the person on the other end of the phone couldn't hear it. He puts his phone back in his pocket.

We'll have the tennis channel back in forty-five minutes.

Cool.

Okay, lead us, Marcel.

Marcel leads his yoga instruction of Robbie and his students by first moving into the first phase of the Robot, dance craze from the 1980's. Disco Steve steps into the first motion, but looks bewildered. Marcel then proceeds to lead Robbie and the whole class through performing the Robot, only holding position and taking deep breaths between each motion.

Feel that deep tissue waking up, Steve?

Honestly, yeah, a little.

Marcel finishes his routine after a few minutes and turns, bowing to the class.

Later, Rob. Namaste. Take it easy, everybody.

Marcel steps over the top rope and to the floor gingerly and with the grace of a swan as he smoothly walks down one of the halls of the Robbie Bourbon Dojo to presumably sit around and watch the tennis channel.

Wow, Robbie, he's pretty tall, does he want to join the XWF?

What? No, Marcel is a pacifist.

Oh, well, oh. What's next?

Next, we do something called Everybody Hit Everybody.

What?

Yeah, we're just going to go bonkers and beat the fuck out of each other with no rhyme or reason for a few minutes until we're all good and subdued and hurt, then we'll try doing technical shit.

Well, that sounds rough.

It's Xtreme.

Suddenly, we hear a loud crash as something bolts through the front doors of the dojo. Two orbs come from the figure and into the ring, which explode with a deafening bang, leaving all in the ring doubled over and helpless. It leaps from the floor into the ring. For a brief moment, it stands still, and we see what looks like an anthropomorphic horse costume. It scoops Cyberjaw up and over one shoulder, then Xtreme Travel Agent over the other, and bolts out of the dojo! A few seconds later, and Robbie Bourbon is surveying his dojo.

Is everyone okay?

Where's Cyberjaw?

I don't know!

Robbie, what is happening, did you...

No, I didn't. Look, sometimes shit like this happens, especially when you're an international super agent.

Oh, like when you...

Shhh, loose lips sink ships, Steve. Now, look, I know you only came on today to be an honorary Bourbon Man, but I just lost one of my best guys, and all the rest of my people are taking off for the holidays. Time for Disco Steve Sayors to do some real deal Bourbon Man shit, living that life, can you handle it?

Fuck no!

Steve starts to take his feathery 70's wig off and unbutton the buttons of his very itchy polyester shirt.

But, Steve, c'mon man. For the people.

Steve stops and stares at something beyond the camera. His demeanor grim, his fortitude bolstered, he puts his feathery hair back on and straightens up his ugly disco suit.

Disco Steve Sayors is doing it for the PEOPLE!

Steve hollers at the end, sounding like a four year old girl in doing so. Robbie claps him heartily on the back.

Attaboy. Let's go wreck this shithead.

We don't even know where he's at.

Yeah we do. Hold on.

Robbie pulls his phone out. He slides his fingers around for a moment.

Okay, I have Cyberjaw on my phone plan, so I'm tracking his location signal as we speak. He looks like he's headed into the city.

Don't forget about Xtreme Travel Agent!

Who?

You know, that girl from...

Oh, right, right, yeah. She's spunky and all. I don't pay for her phone, though.

Yeah, but you have to save her too.

Right. Anyway, Cyberjaw...

And Xtreme Travel Agent!

...and Xtreme Travel Agent most likely are going to be, well, damn.

What is it, Robbie?

They're on U Street. I don't know why, is that thing trying to get something to eat?

Suddenly, on a TV in the background, one mounted to a bare steel wall of Robbie's dojo, we see the image of the anthropomorphic horse from before.

Robbie Bourbon.

It's voice comes through deep, and gravelly. Robbie turns and looks at the screen.

Fuck, this guy has that weird ability to hijack news broadcasts or something.

If you're watching this, it means you haven't been killed by me yet. The way you defiled a horse in your quest to win the XWF Universal Championship is not only crude and demeaning, but a full on disgrace to mammal kind. We're all mammals, Robbie, not horrible, death wringing lizards like the dinosaurs. Mammals are warm blooded creatures that have to mate to reproduce. As such, if you don't come down to these crazed meatatarian streets at the corner of 14th and U, I will force these two Bourbon Men to mate.

The camera feed from the TV showing this anthropomorphic horse zooms out to show both Xtreme Travel Agent and Cyberjaw are bound in duct tape beside him. Robbie shrugs as Diamondback facepalms.

They've been fucking for about two weeks now. So what?

That's right, Robbie, I'm here to let you know your place in the mammal kingdom, for I am Thunderhorse. Meet me, or they will produce offspring!

Jesus, come on dude, Cyberjaw and Xtreme Travel Agent are already knocking boots! What kind of supervillain is this? Seriously, he had a flashbang, can manipulate media like, well, a top tier supervillain can, but had no planning whatsoever! He might as well have kidnapped Joe Biden and threatened to keep feeding him peanut butter with Reese's Pieces mixed in.

My favorite meal.

Joe Biden steps onscreen, and Disco Steve Sayors is left with his mouth wide open.

Oh, wow, the Vice-King of the Jobbers!

And you're the Disco Steve Sayors! Welcome aboard, son. Now, Robbie, I've noticed this Thunderhorse seems legitimately more threatening than any of your opponents for the Elimination Chamber Universal Championship Match at Wild Card.

Well, he is targeting me specifically, Joe, but maybe you're right. Maybe a man in a furry horse costume who wants my friends to fuck each other in front of him is legit scarier than Trax or Chris Chaos, but Peter Gilmour's creepy ass has done way weirder things than watch my friends bone. I think, or at least I hope Peter Gilmour doesn't watch either me or my friends have sex. One can never really tell, he reprograms the crack XWF production equipment to go be voyeuristic and spy on Benito Angelo while he showers. Now that I think of it, though, I could totally see Unknown Soldier dressing up as a furry horse and watching my friends fuck.

So you know where Thunderhorse is holding Xtreme Travel Agent and Cyberjaw?

Yes.

Do you think it's a trap?

Of course.

So, do you want me to go with my metal detector first?

No, Joe, I don't think sending the Vice-President in with a metal detector is really under the radar, bud. I'm just going to go in and have a look see.

But, Robbie, if you think it's a trap, and from the sounds of things this Thunderhorse guy wants you dead, why just go in blindly?

Because, Steve, you didn't know? I mean, there are some confused people out there, like Chris Chaos, who thinks a fish pinned him last Warfare, who thinks that anybody in that Elimination Chamber is Louis D'Ville, and whom I hope had the decency to pay the seven dollars to fish on that pier since he balked on paying the five the other day to some kid to just walk. There are some confounded people out there like Trax who think I'm supposed to be ashamed of having the people behind me, even in matches some times, even though the people are what I'm all about. There are some constipated people out there like Peter Gilmour, who constantly looks like he has to shit and has been holding it in since 1994. But Steven, you of all people aught to know by now, especially since you're now a dickhair away from being first string Bourbon Men.

My name is Robbie Motherfucking Bourbon. The people all remember that name, Steve, even you, because it's the name of the man too stupid to acknowledge fear. Too brazen to even consider he's ever beaten. Too cocksure to run, too arrogant to flee, and too ignorant to give in to cowardice. Frankly, Steve, for all my faults, for all the things my opponents could be exploiting right now, they keep bringing up the simple fact that I, Robbie M. Bourbon, have balls to spare and the heart that will keep beating even when you've ripped it out of my chest and I've strangled the life out of you to get it back and put it back in place. I'm the berzerker, the barbarian, and the raging monster that will bait you back to my killing grounds, slowly but surely.

Seriously, don't you think we should get going to save Cyberjaw and Xtreme Travel Agent?

Yup!

Robbie runs out of the ring and towards the front door as Joe Biden keeps pace right behind him. We see Diamonback give a backhanded tap to Disco Steve Sayors's shoulder as he leaves the ring for the front door, and Disco Steve hustles to keep up. All four men enter the A-Team van painted to look like the Ghostbusters car and Robbie punches the gas, peeling out of the parking lot of the Robbie Bourbon Dojo of the competitive arts.

We regain our bearings in the van as we see Robbie intently zooming in and out of traffic, driving like a man possessed towards the center of Washington, DC, from Alexandria. He's crossing the Potomac, and a Metro line train is seen going in the opposite direction back towards the Pentagon and Reagan National Airport.

Good thing there's no traffic!

I know, right?

I was being facetious!

Oh, look who's funny now.

Seriously, you've been driving on the shoulder now and running stop lights, narrowly getting into accidents everywhere!

I'm great at driving, Steve.

He is really solid behind the wheel.

Thank you, Joe.

Robbie hands Joe Biden a cookie, but not into his hands, straight into his mouth. Joe noshes on the cookie with a delighted expression on his face.

Robbie pulls the car up to the blocked intersection of 14th and U, and if you have any knowledge whatsoever about the grid of the District of Columbia, blocking off 14th and U is absolutely insane. It doesn't get blocked ever, not even during citywide celebrations, not even for the Presidential inauguration. A brigade of SWAT and other police line the blocked off section of street, with thousands of people all crowded around looking on in wonder. Robbie rushes the line and hops the barricade, and within is Thunderhorse, alongside Cyberjaw and Xtreme Travel Agent, who seem to be necking, or as best as Cyberjaw can neck with his cybernetic jaw.

Ah, you've come. Big mistake, Robbie. You shouldn't have come to this place at all. You should have allowed me to breed your friends and allow them to spawn, for all mammality!

That's fucking weird!

What?

All mammality? Seriously?

Shut it!

Thunderhorse lobs another flashbang at Robbie, and Robbie catches it, containing the blast between his hands. Robbie immediately jumps around, wringing his hands, which must be in excrutiating pain.

God damnit motherfuck son of a bitch! Jesus!

Impressive, Bourbon, but you are just here to die for what you did to a poor horse, and for what? To win the Universal Heavyweight Championship?

Joe Biden, Disco Steve Sayors, and Diamondback all get to the barricade. Diamondback tries to wave to his buddy Cyberjaw, but Cyberjaw is too busy getting some of that sweet, sweet Xtreme Travel Agent action.

I will do whatever it takes to walk out of that chamber with the Universal Championship in my hands!

Robbie rushes Thunderhorse and picks him up in an Argentine backbreaker! Robbie clinches in the pressure on the back, then with a whipping action over both his shoulders, he drives Thunderhorse into the pavement headfirst!

Shit!

The people are all gobsmacked at this.

What is it, Steve?

What was that?

Oh, that? Just some basic little move.

Basic little move? I've never fucking seen anybody in the XWF ever do it! Why don't you do that instead of the Neckwrecker?

Because I like the Neckwrecker. It's like a normal neckbreaker, only worse because I've perfected it.

No, that's...

You have a shitty finisher, Robbie.

Shut up.

No.

Diamondback lights a cigarette.

Robbie, your finisher has been scrutinized, even by you yourself. Can you do what you just did again?

Robbie shrugs. He walks over to Thunderhorse, scoops him up, and delivers the same move again.

That's it!

What's it?

That's your new finisher! That's the Robbiedriver!

The people, police, and SWAT all ooh and ah at the declaration of the name.

I like it!

See, Robbie, you should have let me interview you decades ago.

I did.

Robbie pinches the lapel of Disco Steve Sayors's seventies polyester disco suit and ruffles his feathery 70's wig and winks at Steve. A half smile crawls across the face of Steve Sayors. Robbie walks over to where Cyberjaw and Xtreme Travel Agent are and starts to untie them.

Five more minutes, dude.

This is so hot!

What?

Like, everybody watching, the bondage, this is the kinkiest sex I think I'll ever have!

Not on my watch!

Robbie unties Cyberjaw and Xtreme Travel Agent.

You guys go...

Thunderhorse staggers to his feet.

You think you've won here, today? You think I'm going to stop! You don't even know how far Thunderhorse is willing to go!

Robbie reaches in Cyberjaw's pocket and removes the Growing Beam. He aims for Thunderhorse's anthropomorphic horse costume mask, sitting atop his shoulders. Robbie pulls the trigger, and in a moment Thunderhorse is trapped beneath his own mask, which is now five times larger.

Hey, let me out of here, I'm your supervillain arch-nemesis!

No, fool, I'm the arch-nemesis around here, because I'm the next Universal Heavyweight Champion.]]>